Your ruffled shirt is what I noticed first
at your mom’s birthday party. We conversed,
and you were quite the gentleman, to flirt
harmlessly with your mother’s friend, alert
the bartender to fill my glass. You nursed
your ginger ale, decanted wine, dispersed
the waiters with one gesture, and, well-versed
at being host, you served us all dessert
in your ruffled shirt.
The boy in you, though, teased, snuck up and burst
balloons and laughed. Your brown eyes held your thirst
for fun, for dares, for playing in the dirt;
skinned knees; bruised heart; and other kinds of hurt
to come—your only shield against the worst
your ruffled shirt.
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Goldberg, M. Dressed for the Party. J GEN INTERN MED 31, 1262 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11606-016-3677-3
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/s11606-016-3677-3