Arcing Left

I want to wear sundresses and fashionable
boots. The former: so I can wilt lightly
in Southern heat, and the latter, so I can look
cool slipping across the parking lot on the way

to my car (the car and I having no good reason
to be circumnavigating strip malls and large
retail (cough cough--did I mention Wal Mart?)
parking lots. No reason, except this: no reason.

Summer has passed. The opportunity for sundresses
now in the books. I can hear the baseball game
in the background as I type this and must fully
acknowledge I missed another opportunity to lose

fifty pounds and wear a sundress, and then, maybe,
I would have been adventurous enough to have
purchased tickets to a ballgame, where my new
sundress would have caught the attention

of some woman like me who would likely
have said, "Hmmm...she wears that well, bet
she's starving herself" as the ball arced left,
just foul, and before she had time to think,

capped her on the right temple, her crumpling
body trying to remember who is right, who
is left, where in the hell are the keys?