The Dress

Well, I'm her mother, and I cannot see it,
that kind of money for one more thing to wear
to the Frostee-Freeze. I guess I might have done
the same thing at her age but, hell, at her age
I was married and lived at the mining camp
raising two kids, the baby being her.
She put on the dress last night, a strapless thing,
slipping up from the bottom and down at the top.
She called Harold, the weenie boyfriend,
to come take her down to the Idle Hour.
Waiting, she crossed her legs and fluffed her hair.
I'll bet she wasn't dreaming of pukey babies
or a man who rolls away soon as he's done,
or once of herself, married willy-nilly,
tomtit for a husband and no money.
It costs what she makes in a week, but she's got to have it.

Towns Facing Railroads, U. of Arkansas Press

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Credit for Photograph -- Wooldridge Photography
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