The Dress

I wore the very prettiest little dress today. It's the kind of dress that saves lives. It's a superwoman dress. A Santa frock. A gift giving no shit taking, I'm gonna change your world with one look kind of dress. She's a little piece of heaven this thing...and she knows it.
I wore this dress because it's time. Time to go out. Time to give it back, let it roam, take on the sluts and the prudes, the bums and the mustache wearing, guitar playing mirror men. No more jeans and sheets. Not for me anymore. No more in house, lock down, yawn and frown. I'm done healing and revealing. I'm ready for a fight. I'm ready to wet my back and watch the hair curl again. I've played "Simple Twist of Fate" too many times. I can't look at another frying pan. I don't need more sleep. Keep your adavan. I don't want the warm tea and the soothing sounds of mother nature's ocean. I want the heels. I want the really high heels. The trip on a sprinkler, twist your ankle, break your neck, kind of heels.
I'm wearing the dress for love. For white bread. For the spring dream and peanut butter ice cream. Little tots and big tot. Old love is not gone. It is not dead in the water. But, past is past and I'm not pissed. Quite contrarily, I'm smitten. White bread gone bad makes the very best memory for fairer fare. Old love never leaves anyhow. It always floats around. Should it make a return, I shall be in my dress and I'll say "there you are. bout time you came back. looks like you're a lil' late though...no mind, we'll start a new love, love" The dress is for old sayings and sighs, old lessons learned and very old hearts broken. The dress is for new love, new life, graceful exits and enchanted hellos.
Good morning sunshine, I'm pretty in chintz. Hello red.
Goodbye gray American Apparel downer, though you've always been hot, I'm no hipster. Screw the skinny jean and I'm so mean, look at me looking like I'm not looking at you scene. Who needs the weeds of woe. You're not all that Joe. Pull back your top hat and let loose for winks. I'm back in the tumble. I lost myself for a thirty year rumble and June is singing come the 21st. I'm throwing a tea party and no cool allowed. Uncool Bien Venue! Bring your drink of desire and I'll conspire to roll out the new dress and all that plaid.
Let's not be perfect. Let's slip up. Let's breathe. Let it hang. Let it flower a little. There's nothing wrong with edge. Nothing wrong at all. I love the lines but I'm two sided and a little bit divided. Sometimes quakes crack your egg open and that's when you have to spread. Blur the bold and get a little pretty.
I am pretty today. Oh so pretty. I looked like a fucking barbie. In the prettiest little dress in town, I roamed the Trader Joe's isles. You could smell the joy from the parking lot. No one missed me. Not a basket untouched. Brilliant. Blossoming. Beautiful. The avocados looked wonderful. So did I. I was Something to look at. Something to muse towards. I was a yellow brick road incarnate. I am lady in the sky.
The dress was darling. She did just fine. Better than fine. She changed the whole of me.