You had time only to kick off the heels you weren't used to.
The train had already been stepped on and pulled so many times
that it wasn't worth the effort it'd take to detach it.
And he, in his untied bowtie and wrinkled cumberbun,
had given me his jacket to wear over my pink, itchy dress.
I'd chewed on my lacy white gloves throughout the entire two-hour ceremony
so they were useless now (even more than before)
but I kept a firm grasp on my empty flower basket
and waited for you to notice me --
bored and hungry and tired enough to admit I was tired.
We kicked at the stucco next the steps a while, Cousin and me,
until he got so restless he went crying to your sister.
Without anyone to play with, I set out to find you in a sea of stomachs and hips.
Until slowly, purposely, with creepy grins on their faces,
each one of your guests began to fall to the floor.
One by one, they lay flat on the dirty wooden slats
(that made my little black shoes make a funny noise when I walked).
It made it easier to find you, at least -- everyone sprawled about --
and when I did, you read my eyes and answered,
"It's the Rock Lobster."