An original Chanel dress
says 'I never have to be me.'
With waves or a bob in her hair,
a girl can say 'Life is perfectly fair.'
White or folding gold, flirty
with high shoulders and plunging neckline,
it says 'I'm impervious to time.'
So I tried on you,
your white skin and gold waves.
I thought, 'Gosh, the money I'll save.'
And time did roll out at my feet,
until everything was perfectly equal.
The insistent pulsing of your heartbeat
said ' There's no need for sequel.'
I forgot that with the utmost tenderness,
you can outgrow any dress
of any cut or any designer.
No matter how slimming you are,
or how you bring my eyes out,
you never stopped being so far.
As if I fell in love with clothes or a purse,
your skin was a slight grade finer.
You were never more than an object,
shedded easily and casting unintentional shadows of doubt
on my ideas of fashion and love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem