Date night: Hooters

Kristin sat down and slid in
on slick orange polyester short shorts
across the booth, close

You know what you want?
she asks in that cartoon cute voice
smooth with innuendo.
Leans over me to peek over my menu
her tight lifted breast brushes my arm,
then rests on my bicep.

She has no plans of moving it and I realize why
these men pay $7.00 for a burger
sweet Kristin calling me darling
so sweet and concerned only with satisfaction,
fulfilling my desires
for another Killians.

I am not quite the only woman
in Hooters this evening,
but the others are all singing Happy Birthday
to Tony and Dave who are perched on tall chairs
standing on top of tables, making
boat rowing motions as the girls

the girls sing it right there
for them with buddies calling in another round.

I walk through to the
rarely used ladies room
and wonder if these men envy my husband
for having a wife who suggests Hooters on Date night
or pities him for my taking all the fun out of the naughtiness of it all

all the glorious innocent naughtness of short shorts,
tight tights, scoop shirts beautiful girls
without a panty line in sight.

You know you want it
she says to me
tapping the end of her pen on her teeth,
selling me on the desert for two

goddamn, it feels good
to admit it with my presence
and smile that yes goddamn it
I do want it
but this is as close as it gets.

Or maybe I can convince him
to take me to a strip club
next week.