Satin and Silk and Lace and Perfume

A kaleidoscope the second

we’re through the doorway

into Girl World.

Andy goes off to find Lindy,

leaving me alone.

And piles of thongs and bikini briefs

are strewn on the table in front of

women and girls

who peck through panties

like magpies or crows.

They have every right

to be here, to be at home.

I don’t.

It feels awkward, I knew it would.

And I’m furtive.

What if someone guesses?

Illogical, I know.

But is there any logic

to the fact that I’m once again

Jealous? With a capital J?

Girl World isn’t my place

but I wish it were.

Any logic to the fact that

everything’s softer, better

or that I know

I could belong here?

(With the right body parts, that is.)

An extremely helpful salesgirl

(not Lindy Carmichael, thank God)

presents her tall,

thin but muscular,

near-perfect self—

asks if I need assistance.

Heart thumping,

I clear my throat,

point

to a mannequin wearing

a satin padded push-up bra.

“I’d like that for my girlfriend.”

My voice strange to me.

The Girl World envoy asks about size.

I have no idea what to say.

I shrug.

          She laughs, asks, “Is she about

          my size? Bigger, smaller?”

My stomach flips.

“Bigger than you,” I say.

Tense shoulders, dry mouth,

I wait for it to be rung up.

I punch in my PIN.

Transaction complete

I can

breathe again.

At the door Andy

catches up with me.

            “Scored a date with Lindy!”

We high-five,

then he

grabs the bag

looks in to see the gift box.

                      “Awesome, Dude. Maybe

                      now you’ll get some!”