Hello, darling husband!
I just wear it when I don’t care what I look like.
It’s the same color as your eyes.
It doesn’t fit right,
but I like it anyways, I think.
I have a secret to tell you:
Labor Day was two weeks ago
but white satin looks so good on me
that I can’t bring myself to care.
Do you care?
Oh, you don’t?
Your willow tree grows nicely when it has fertilizer.
Your backyard is a lush green paradise
when you’re not here to guard it.
Thanks for everything you gave me,
especially your mother’s candlestick from the mantle,
which I had to throw, still covered in gore, in the trash,
down the block,
to keep from being recognized.
I appreciate it!
Sorry I don’t follow your rules
(I wear white,
I sing loud,
I smash glasses,
but you’re not even here to enforce them —
So, I whisper to you,
from six feet away,
“Nice try, buddy;
but I look amazing today
and you can’t stop me.”