Bright Red Dress (a.k.a. Anima)


She wears the Bright Red Dress, dances on marble table-tops


Has that perfect laugh — Head tilted back


You know the kind.


Yes, she’s That Kind


The kind they like to put in slow-motion


On the movie-screens


The kind who gives the teens


Wet dreams


And makes men stiffen in their theater seats


As they squirm over to one side


So the wife won’t see


The hard evidence of their fantasies.


Yes, she’s That Kind –


Her smile blinds,


Those wide big eyes


Blink innocently


While what they think is underneath – unbridled sensuality


Simmers through transparently


Because it ain’t necessarily


Her own sensuality


But I won’t bore you with


Such Things.


They all imagine she’s Untouchable


While fiending oh-so-desperately —


To touch her ever-endlessly…


Projecting every wanted woman they have ever seen


Unconsciously on that Bright Red Dress


She happens to be wearing.


Betting to themselves deep down, “I know her and she knows me.


And if I could only win her over, she’d see we’re meant to be.”


Oh, how they think Know her!


And there is some magic quality.


I’m not sayin’ she don’t have it —


It just ain’t the Realest thing.


‘Cause they all think she’s the Virgin Mary


And Madonna —


Goddesses Sophia and Innana —


Some twisted kind of Freudian mama


That they secretly beg to Keep.


Sweet souls just projecting onto her


Their hopeful, true-love dreams.


Nothin’ wrong with this except


When the woman removes the dress


She hopes the men who said


She was the greatest thing since whole-grain bread


Will be able to, instead,


Love the regular, plain ol’ “me.”


You know — the very real wife beside them


In the theater seat.