The Man You’ll Be Marrying

Sometimes I like to dress up a bit,
even when I don’t have to
for my job,
just to look nice for you
when I get home.

I iron a blue dress shirt,
take out my gray slacks,
and don my dress shoes;
I’ll take time in the morning
to make sure my hair is
just right;
spray some of that cologne you like;

and at my desk during lunch time,
I think to myself, “OK, you can do this.
Just stay clean and presentable
until tonight.”

But, inevitably, your needle-in-a-hay-stack eyes
seek out some salsa I’d never have seen
on my sleeve,
and you say, with the most kissable smile
my lips were ever privileged to meet,

“so close.”

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