The Girl in the Pink Dress

You met a girl last night,
You told me, excitement tumbling between your words,
your face flushed.
She was wearing a pink dress.
She was on the edge of the dancefloor when you spotted her,
swaying, eyes closed behind glasses
at a club
where you were on the prowl. 

You asked her to dance.
She said
That’s sweet, but no.
You asked her what she did.
I’m a poet
she said. 

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks
rosy spots of envy.
You see,
I wanted to be the girl in the pink dress,
the multicolored lights illuminating my hair softly,
lost in the music and the moment
when you
asked me to dance
and I
and said I was a poet.