Shoehorn of sorts, you ask me to aspire
To cocquettry and dash in mens' daywear;
You divert focus back to worldly ire
Cuffed shoe or split or trouser knee threadbare.
Wool tickles thighs and in the weave hairs snare-
Last year's round lapel is now in or out?
Tape measure, thimble stand me on a chair,
Leeway is dummied for a feasting bout.
Your eyes weigh me up with a squint as stout-
You shush me with a finger on your lip,
The full length mirror leavens any doubt,
Small stitches you give one dismissive snip.
The city is wild but not as you deign:
You truss me up in your bespoke design.
{3D interactive chorus:}
o $1,000,000 deign
o $1,000,000 choose
o $1,000,000 pick
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS