13 Mannequin and I. I want to be like that pretty mannequin. I want to dress up like that pretty mannequin. I want to be daring ever-young like that pretty mannequin. I want to have playful manners of that pretty mannequin. I want to get into a display window next to that pretty mannequin. I want to be politically correct like that pretty mannequin. I want to fit in like that pretty mannequin. I want to give a damn like that darling mannequin. I want to have a chiseled chin and cheek of that chic mannequin. I want to have a tucked tummy of that enticing mannequin, The whole sleek body of that skinny mannequin. The soft and smooth skin of that sweetie mannequin, White and straight teeth of that graceful mannequin. I want to have a winning smile of that high-in-demand mannequin. I want to be relaxed without a blue pill like that dreamy mannequin. I want to have sex appeal without a risk like that hot mannequin. I wanna Be Wanted. I want some wanton mannequin to wink at me. I want a chick mannequin to flirt and have a flick with me. I want you, a pretty mannequin! But a pretty mannequin Does not want me. I am not pretty. A pretty mannequin does not want My shabby or underdeveloped body, too short or too long, Always too fat or too thin. A darling mannequin does not want my failures, My deficiencies, defects, malfunctions, faults, disorders, My deviations, mistakes, lies, false promises, fears, Aches, hunger, compulsions, nightmares, thirst, itching, My stooping, bruises, heart-burn, belching, hiccups, snots, morning breath, spits, A pretty mannequin does not want my snob or crooked nose, Always too small or too big, The bubble or cavity of my belly, My flabby or dried-tight, wrinkled or slate-rough skin With freckles, cellulite, sores, pimples, warts, scars, blisters, stretch marks, moles. A pretty mannequin does not want to listen To my sneezing, mumbling, farting, stammering, snoring. I do not know whether I am dressed up enough. I do not know whether I am enough politically correct. I do not know whether I want enough, and, though, I always buy a ticket, I always suspect I do not fit in. I do not know whether I am witty enough or enough achieved. I am a fast food fix for my lovers, a drive-through for my friends. I crave my blue pill to relax. I crave my green laxative pill, My yellow pill to get high, My brown pill to get aroused, And my red pill to make me want me.







Previous

IRENE CĂSAR
Returned Mail
Collected Poems

Next