LIVING DOLL

I am in love

and she is wonderful.

She's a living doll, my beautiful

busty, bright-eyed Barbie.

She is mine

or she will be

for when I touch her

she still is cold

is playing hard-to-get.

I sense my model girlfriend

still thinks of another.

That far-off smile on her face

is not for her 'boyfriend'

for he far too effeminate

too soft for one such as she.

No, Barbie thinks of a warrior

a mighty man

on an adventure far away

one where he can be a real American hero.

I know not where he is

or when he'll return

but I believe that this creature

she awaits

can be broken as easily as any other.

And then, truly

Barbie shall be for me

and me alone.

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