Your long beautiful legs, candy kiss smile—almost too perfect. Million dollar valentine, your ideas of perfection were far from flawless. My voicemails unanswered, I stopped by Wednesday, after work, to find you, lifeless, head buried up to your blonde shoulders, in the Easy-Bake oven. Oh, my sweet, sweet Barbie, whose life were you really living, anyway? Your sherbet pink jeep now parked in the dream house garage, forever and ever and ever. How will I ever replace you?
Appeared in Boston Literary Magazine, Summer, 2013
