the things to do
picking out the dress
the perfume and shoes
filling my head with his face
filling my face with make-up
taking up space on the bathroom sink
the sun sinking behind a cloud
clouding my eyes in reverie

Counting down
the hands on the clock
till four o'clock
blow-drying my hair
hearing the whirl of leaves
flying from the trees past the picture window
and the caw of the crow
rattling my soul
polishing my speech and nails
brushing my teeth/hopping on the scale

Counting down
the streets to his house
blaring the radio to pop music
rolling down the window and hill
turning the *** to catch a song
he sang to me
fixing my face in the mirror at a red light
butterflies dancing in my tight tummy
my pulse accelerating with the gas
as I pass the numbers of his neighbor's homes

Counting down
the seconds
to his door
crossing the yard
walking past the old Oak tree
following the lighted path
down the brick steps
holding my breath
wiping the sweat off my hands
turning the ***
looking through the glass
this whole day starting now