Howard Firkin
The perfect black dress is—does nothing more
than call to form a body in your mind
with various perfections that you’ll find
when perfect black dress falls and hits the floor.
It doesn’t promise; it delivers sex.
The premise is a simple one: a sheath
of black to trick the longer look, the glance
of eyes across the body’s lines, the dance
of vision seeking vision underneath.
Simplicity turns out to be complex.
What isn’t hidden, no one seeks to find;
for women, black’s the camouflage of choice.
Perfection is a state of body, mind,
and one black dress. Accept it and rejoice.
than call to form a body in your mind
with various perfections that you’ll find
when perfect black dress falls and hits the floor.
It doesn’t promise; it delivers sex.
The premise is a simple one: a sheath
of black to trick the longer look, the glance
of eyes across the body’s lines, the dance
of vision seeking vision underneath.
Simplicity turns out to be complex.
What isn’t hidden, no one seeks to find;
for women, black’s the camouflage of choice.
Perfection is a state of body, mind,
and one black dress. Accept it and rejoice.
