The Real Thing

[fuzzyllama1]

The Real Thing


A dress can move a man,
but funny; how it is an empty thing,
four holes - cutout crucifix - an empty textile
with sordid promises sewn in the definition.

A fitting parallel to the masculine venture,
logic and id butting heads throughout 
that life’s long journey; that Hero’s tale. That Odyssey.

Truth seldom comes to the surface 
on its own, rather, buoyed by life preserver;
a four-holed wrapping in and of itself.
That’s the dress! A life preserver.
It’s wearer most certainly is saved
for that is the nature of the thing,
when worn with intention and driven purpose
the effect is further reaching.

The dress does not have engine
it will float on its own
into gorgeous sunset horizon.
The dress changes when worn,
function to fit form, 
comes with a cross to bear

It becomes sexy, the dress, then it is real
When it is worn it becomes a spirit.
A dream a lifeblood a carnival a god-queen
with world-saving powers, selfless purpose

The man is turned on by the dress,
the man is saved.
the man is fully, unabashedly, untakebackably, 
knees dropping to the floor-edly, satisfied sigh-ingly, happily(!!!)

Moved.