a sestina

this is a complicated form to write... your end words have to repeat in a specific order... so it sounds like i'm repetitive but I'm forced to be that way. Enjoy.

I just remembered wearing my red dress

The one that I wore that night in California

It was considered a cold night there, it was 59 degrees

I drank red wine, I was 17. He was 22, he had a beard.

We ate outside, some considered us brave

And no other night has ever compared.

I’ve drank and laughed since then, but still it can’t be compared

I have never again worn that dress

I’ve never again been told I was brave

I no longer dream of living in California

But I am not 17 anymore, and the new guy can’t grow a beard.

Yes, I have a different somebody; we both almost have our degrees

Other things remain the same, water still freezes at 32 degrees

People are still judged and compared

That man I love(d), still has a beard

He says he keeps it trimmed now and he’s decided to dress

A bit nicer since he’s no longer a starving artist in Southern California

And I still won’t leave Oklahoma, because I’m not brave.

But what good is being brave?

Being willing to do things at high degrees

Of difficulty? Well, I could be living in California

Where the warmth and the waves cannot be compared

to the sweaty state I live in now, that is as red as the dress

I wore that night. I kissed his purple lips and black beard.

I wish I could forget his brown eyes and mysterious beard

But I cannot. So I sit and try to figure out what makes a man brave

What makes a woman want to dress

in red and sit outside when it’s not 75 degrees

and talk about the difference in pinot noir and cabernet sauvignon, they cannot be compared

he said, as we watch the orange sun go down in Los Angeles, California

He begged me to move in with him in lovely California

“You won’t ever have to wear a bra, and I’ll never shave my beard

You could be a writer or an actress” I compared

this with my lonesome gray life in Oklahoma, but I just wasn’t brave

enough to leave. I guess I wanted a few more winters with -8 degrees

I wonder if he still remembers my red dress…

Or how I compared to any other girl in Southern California

Who had a dress that was red, and liked kissing a man with a beard…

It’s 3 years later, and 4 degrees warmer, and I’m still not brave.