Tuesday, January 4, 2011

My Most Important Post Yet

Evening Gown Made of Cake

Everyone stares enraptured.
She’s so beautiful tonight
In her gown made of cake.
Press close to her body,
Sniff her all over,
Oh God, she smells divine,
Like cherries dipped in cream.
Like vanilla frosting and pineapples.
They all want her phone number.
They want to eat her up,
Press their skin against the cake.
They want to dip their fingers in the frosting.

She’s so thrilled by the attention,
She wears the gown again the next day,
Wears it to school and to work,
Wears it for days, then weeks.
Then an entire month in the gown.
The cake is stiff and moldy,
Infested with bugs and worms,
Crunchy and juicy in the wrong places.
Why won’t she take off the dress?
The smell makes people sick.
Just take off the dress, they tell her.
People avoid her on the street.
Her friends stop calling her.
Change into a damn t-shirt and jeans!
Why won’t she take off the dress?
She’ll never take off the dress.

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