Crumbs in my Bra

 Crumbs in my bra

It danced on the table top

    and downed three Cokes.

    (None Zero—I’ll add!)

It demolished all the fancy cheese 

    and eyed the stuffed peppers.

It sang the songs with a flourish

    when they weren’t even karaoke.

    (Where did it get those maracas??)

I finally arrived: wet hair, smudged polish,

    naked face. (And a gorgeous dress!)

As I beheld the damage it had wrought,

I despaired as I so often do:

    How does my body always arrive 

    before my brain?

If you figure it out, let me know.

For now, I’ll be in the restroom,

   fishing cracker crumbs out of my bra

   and wondering if I can locate my dignity

   before it catches an uber home.