Did Icon by Rikki Santer

Did Versace billow beyond stilettos sky-highed

with peep-toed platforms triggered.

Did Balenciaga four-side a cocktail dress,

Armani rebirth old Hollywood, mused

by mini-dress metal.

Did red snake & crocodile scales lavish operatic for

Dolce Gabbana massimalismo,

fabulous by the water with champagne flutes.

Did flirty hip-high split ruffle-&-tulle frothy,

delicate pastry tasty with semi-shear pleats.

Did von Furstenberg slink the wrapped jersey so comfortable

no underwear, so comfortable get laid.

Did bubble silhouettes lampshade hems,

paint-by-numbers walk as perfume atomizers.

Did tulip fields loosen with free-flowing hair,

bloom surreal sweater sets, pussy bowtie all blouses in sight.

Did Gucci risque´ hippie chic & coquette a pout.

Did folds light-as-air float a train, make us want to tango,

orgasm with winks.

Did scarlet beret ravish its sequins like a great clarifier,

safety pins oversized strategized flesh.

Did raw beef bypass butcher,

a rooster feather a headdress to scold award shows.

Did pink wool suit & matching pillbox

scar an America alongside couture alabaster

ballooning above a sidewalk grate.

Did Gucci’s blackface jumper,

H&M’s coolest monkey in the jungle,

& Burberry’s hoodie with strings tied like a noose

expose abscessed fangs.

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