You’ll have to forgive me, for tonight I don’t have the wherewithal to compose something brilliant and witty and moving.

While packing some books, I ran across one of my favorite poems.  Love Kim Addonizio.

I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, 
I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. 
I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what's underneath. 
I want to walk downthe street past Thrifty's and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, 
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, 
past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, 
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. 
I want to walk like I'm the only woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what I want. 
When I find it, I'll pull that garment from its hanger like I'm choosing a body to carry me into this world,
through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, 
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin, 
it'll be the goddamned dress they bury me in.