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 down the street, Past Thrifty’s and the hardware store, With all those keys glittering in the window. Past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old doughnuts in their cafĂ©, 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. ...