Ode to a little black dress

My luckiest piece of clothing was my little black dress.
It clung in all the right places, my silhouette,
Flowed out to show off my legs.
Men always loved them, especially in this dress.
I was twenty-eight when I bought it.
I've owned others. But this was the
One.
I've had other lucky clothing. My khaki miniskirt
In college, my power suits with skirts just above
The knee, my muscle T-shirt, worn braless
On Saturday mornings to get a mocha at Uptown Espresso.
But I loved this little black dress above all.

When I was twenty-eight and powerful, such a powerful
Age for a woman, my body still taut and youthful
But my mind wiser.
This little black dress got me lovers
And got me into trouble.
It ended up on the floor at the foot of his bed.
It bunched up against a wall as he fucked me
Standing.

I was reminded of this the other night,
As I walked in the misty black air along the Seine.
I was alone, wearing garters and black stockings
Under a longer dress. But no fun for Linda.
I have duties, responsibilities, minders, a firearm.
Your national security. My sexual insecurity.
Still,
I wanted to feel sexy as I walked, then I heard her.

A cascade of moans and cries and oaths
In a French soprano voice. She never stopped.
I saw them under the ancient bridge. He had her,
Up against the wall. She in a little black dress,
His pants were down, his hip muscles tensed
As he fucked her with madness.
Impaled.
I had been there, mon cheri. Louder than you.
I could see her pale face, red hair,
black dress. Him, his skin was coal black,
Glistening as he took his fair maiden.

She looked at me and we exchanged souls
For a moment. She looked twenty-eight. I told
Her of the lifetime of fucking she had ahead.
Each one wonderfully different, each heartbreak
Worth it.
My black dress would get scuffed and sperm-stained
With all my adventures, with my running from
One lover at eight to another at midnight.
They didn't know they were sharing my
Pussy.
Ah, but my little black dress knew.

They just wanted my legs wrapped around them,
My red hair thrown back and my screams
Validating their manliness. And they did.
They wanted the cute redhead in
The little black dress.
I killed at parties. Made wives went crazy.
Their husbands in a trance, Linda's
Legs.
So many lovers came magnetized to that dress,
And a girl-woman, twenty-eight.
We all got what we were after, right?

I stood there on the storied riverbank,
Paused, a little tingle behind my knees,
As I watched him fuck her.
So much of life flowing by.