Barf Bag Poem #9
Barbie (I swear she could be the doll)
squeezes her toes together, ankles apart, hair
pushed into a blonde pony-tail that
bounces above a denim coat with
curled up cuffs that reveal a hot
pink halter that flows over white
cabana pants cut close to her calves
that descend to her ankles that attach
pink painted toes to a body so beautiful
you ask for her name. Then the silver
toe ring snaking around her left index toe
sparks the thought that she’s engaged
to a foot fetish man. Well, wrong.
She’s a Goldsboro native, moving to
Fort Myers where her fiancé has a new
job at Nextel. Oh, she’s Leslie, a third-year
psychology major who will continue her
studies while lucky-boy pushes cell phones.
Thanks to this fate-placed goddess, in this
broadening moment, life stretched our
mid-spring encounter, but not into friendship.
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