Wishing for a World Without Models

You can air kiss with the best of them,
Throwing your chin in the sky,
Smacking your own breath as if you adored it,
Lollygagging by without so much as Hi.

And me, with my antideluvian wardrobe,
My gauche derriere, my skin beyond repair,
And me, I wonder how you got it,
My heart, and your instinct for deceit?

%d bloggers like this: