Old Country

When walking down the unsteady street,
she wore dresses, simple black ones
the kind that shifted with the winds of the east,
alignments of planets, and the eyes of men.

And she led a parade of them without
the use of a piper. All she had to do
was not look and they followed blindly.
Maybe it was the dresses.

Can I buy you some cherries?
Can I walk beside you?
Can I hold your hand and whisper in
your ear?
Can I nuzzle your neck?
Can I slip my hand down the front of
your bodice?

They might have said that, she wasn't sure.
The amorous looks in their eyes suggested
such. Smiling and nodding, clutching her
purse, she walked down the unsteady street

In a simple black dress.
The kind that changed the winds,
aligned the planets and
glazed the eyes of men.