WINNER, February 2010: In Summer - Sarah S.

I am glad I am wearing my short skirt.
The really slutty one. The one that lived
balled up in back of the closet
as I slipped
into the dreary old lady costumes for which you praised me.
Even these, you found fault with
in our daily morning taunting ritual
in the bathroom. “Man, those pants
they fit you like a glove. Your shirt is so tight”
how you would sneer. All the khaki in the world
could not shield me from those hands.

Thick thighs bloom beneath
a twelve-inch patch of denim. I’m glad you can see them.
I am scurrying across Central
eating strawberry-habañero gelato.
Maria and I have just come
from paying for dessert, and flirting
with the man with the big teeth.
Me in my flip-flops, me in my short skirt, passing Starbucks.
I’ve said to Maria
that I cannot now pass here sans thoughts of us.
Maria advised I apply
for part-time employment
so to have worse memories of the place
than ones of you. And the man with the bicycle is you.
Not a ghost now, but you for real:
in the twilight, I am squinting to be sure.
Yes, you, and you are the one
who scooped up my kicking
screaming
170-pound self
and hurled it to the linoleum. You, who broke
My heart and my glasses.

You see me, and I
am wearing this short skirt. So I laugh. I bruise
so easily, but not today.
And then I flip my flops across the street to where Maria stands waiting.
Maybe you glance again. I hope you do
see that harlot you almost married
enjoying her freedom
under a darkening sky
in summer.