The Dress

A yellow and orange sun dress.

That's what Saturdays are meant for.

And that's how they spent them.

He and she.

Him and her.

Them.

They were together,

but never for a second

was it the kind of together one

might expect.

No, the two would stay plural

as singular people, separate.

But that's just how they liked it.

These not-so-lazy, crazy days that they had

were moments in the rough.

They loved sharing.

Glances. Laughter.

The crease lines around their cheeks became

prominent with excessive use.

And they understood the rules they had with each other.

Yet none were explicit. None had to be said.

All was well.

On those crazy Saturdays.

They were in school

on the weekend.

Not the dull, placid institution

where an unjust plethora of work

was tossed about unduly.

No, the world was their classroom.

The earth their desk,

experience their teacher,

their souls their pens.

And neither of them would give one Saturday

for anything, for their time was their own change to spend

for themselves.

They threw away their pennies

and tossed them into the wind

as time slipped by.

But they didn't bother to catch him,

for their feet were fine where they were.

And they picked and prodded at each other's brain

to see what was around the corner.

What's in this crevice? Why that's something new.

What a fine

specimen.

I do believe I'll add this to my collection.

They could have invested their time

in something that would have reaped extreme

monetary benefits

and bought millions of sun dresses.

But it wouldn't have been the same dress.

Or the same day.

Or the same at all.

For they invested in something much better than

pretense could provide.

The heart. The soul. The life.

This bank account

was never empty.

Because they didn't want dollar bills.

They wanted change.

Change colored with a yellow and orange tablet.