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for Meryn Cadell

Yes, I want to be Barbie.
I want to have blonde 
synthetic hair that's flammable
so when I light my cigarette 
I can go out with a real bang.
I want electric blue eye shadow
tattooed on my eyelids.
I want lashes of steel
and boobs of silicon.
I want lips so red they blind men
and teeth as white as toilet paper.
Yes, I want to be Barbie.
I want the assurance that for all eternity 
I will be wearing spiked heels
and my feet will never blister.
I want the waist of a new-born infant,
so I can pig out on pastries,
pies, and cheesecake, 
and never have to exercise.
I want to live in a pink mansion
with my own personal elevator to the second floor,
so I will never have to climb stairs again in heels.
I want a self-cleaning bathroom
and a lawn that never needs cutting.
Yes, I want to be Barbie.
I want a white Afghan Hound named Prince 
who never makes a mess in the yard,
and a white cat named Fluffy 
with a self-cleaning litter-box.
I want to date Ken,
the perfect man 
with the perfect hair,
the perfect car,
and the perfect clothes,
who always calls when 
he says he will,
who never forgets Barbie's birthday,
or her almost perfect anatomy.

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