The Barbie Poem
She's made of plastic,
I'm sure she is.
Not even the breeze
Could stir the peroxide, hair sprayed creation
Precariously perched on her head.
Each filament is perfectly glued into place.
Her makeup comes from an aerosol can;
She must have sprayed it on this morning.
How did she find a shade of eye shadow
That utterly matches
The blue rayon blouse
That gently encases
Her silicone-laden, wonder bra-enhanced bosom?
Her child-sized feet
Have been squeezed into 3-inch heels,
And I assume that her helium-filled cranium
Must be what keeps her upright
As she totters along the sidewalk.
Her passion pink acrylic claws,
Clutching a patent leather handbag,
Appall me; I think they must frighten small children.
She completely disgusts me
Because I know she gets more dates than I do.