What do you wear to a party on the sun?

Take a bath and wash your hair,

And think about what you're gonna wear.

Shave your legs. Put lotion on.

(Lots and lots of lotion on.)

Think about shoes. Comb your hair.

What in the world are you going to wear to a party on the sun?

Maybe you should dress in layers?

Start with good foundational underwear?

A camisole, a petticoat, a sleeveless dress

Covered with a robe and sash?

A dash of cologne?

But as I put my panties on 

I decide it doesn't matter.

I'd rather not go to the bother.

Maybe someone who's never been

To the sun can dream and fantasize

About how it's going to be,

But I know from times when it's you and me

That the party on the sun is heat,

That sweats off everything that isn't eternal.

The daring inferno of love will sweat every stick of make-up off,

And every rag and cloth you want to call caparison,

Won't mean a thing at that party on the sun.

So I'm skipping the bath.

I'll take one with you

In the bright shine of the looming sun,

And I'll skip thinking about clothes,
And shoes,

And I'll skip wearing them,

And show up nude

To the party on the sun.

-jenn