Sundress Elegy

The mirror said I'm cute today,
but I'm no white woman. 
Even when your clothes sit wrong,
oh brave and sun-dressed me,
I could never quite become their girl,
the image of their beauty. 

Porcelain skin, straight hair,
alleged nude-colored leggings.
Where's my missing brown Aphrodite?
I heard she's been preoccupied
at a warehouse on the south side,
hardly a goddess to anybody.

There's that saying about treasure,
and I'm some white man's trash. 
I've been waiting for Dark Venus,
bringing affirmations at last.
It scarcely seems I find 
the girls all clothed in coffee;
for in the couture class,
the designers and their fash-
ion killed the ones who didn't pass.
  

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