Melbourne Cup Day

I wanted to buy her a new dress
For Melbourne Cup Day
But I never wanted to buy her
I never wanted her to know it was a consideration
Because I never could, never would
Besides she’s too expensive
Besides I am too poor
And I shouldn’t have even thought it
No matter how fine the dress
It could only be a tiny fraction of her
I’d imagined her smile, you see
Like spun gold in my memory
No she’d never go for that
By far she’d prefer a new hay bale or two, for her horses
And a little serendipity, that night for us to share
A left-over sandwich from her café
She had class that rich folk would never understand
But if they could enrol their sons and daughters
In that one well over-subscribed … class
An investment might fit the crime
And in my crime-scene, most pictures were of her
In an old peasant dress
Her moon-white skin, freckling in gay sun
All else, mere accessory
Wish I’d bought a new me, to highlight her glory
Without the ceremony
You know – laying on of hands, etcet'era
Sometimes she saw what I saw
And at times, she was way ahead
And I followed, happy as a mutt
Happy as something approaching hers
My tail wagging, side to side
Hoping for a little pat, from her