UNDER SHOW BOOTH TORII
It was just past mid summer's eve.
Market day show booth set up the usual way
With necklaces hanging, bazaar-like,
From chain strung over head to poles
From corner to corner, forming
the appearance of arches,
Under which you strolled,
You entered the booth, said 'Hello!'
We chatted, exchanging pleasantries,
Nothing of note, until the revelation
The shorts you sported bore the Diesel brand,
You bought them in Philly for only fifty cents.
You asked my thoughts on the matter.
My God in Heaven! Yow!
I saw the fit was swell, smashing, absolutely!
So, among the many things
Under mind's review, the last,
The label was the last, and the price,
How low the purchase price
Never occupied my mind.
Later you returned,
Modeling a vintage gown,
With a few, quick twirls,
And queried, again, my opinion.
My thoughts were not about the dress.
I barely remember it.
Was the fabric chiffon, synthetic, cotton, silk?
The design abstract, bold green and yellow
Splashes accented it, against light orange,
Diaphanous background, I believe.
But were my hand upon a Bible
In court of law, I could not swear to it!
Oh! The gorgeous way you looked!
Irrelevant to my delight,
Your choice of clothes,
The day you stood before me,
As if by gateways framed,
Under arches of necklaces
Strung from chain above you.