Ken

Ken

I went shopping for a husband,
one that understands the right way,
how to appreciate life, share responsibilities,
and respect each others dreams and passions.
I want a guy I can write poetry about.
I told my daughter the plan,
and she wanted to come along.
We ended up at Toy's R Us,
searching shelves for the right Ken.
I didn't remember them looking so young;
these guys look like teenagers.
The only one I found that looked my age was Spock,
attractive with his salt and pepper hair.
He was even on the sale table.
I wondered why nobody bought him.
"I don't know," I told my daughter.
"He changes the whole idea.
I'm looking for a normal guy.
Maybe if I dress him in Ken clothes,
something summery, shorts, T-shirt,
sun glasses, and I'll need a hat to cover his ears.
He might just work," I told her.
I carried him around awhile,
imagining what it would be like
to take him everywhere I go.
"I don't know; people will recognize him,
I can't write poetry about this guy,
it just won't be normal."
I decided to come home and search the Internet.
Maybe an old G.I Joe would be more my style.
I couldn't find anything better than Spock.
Even the old G.I Joes look too young;
I've aged, but the dolls haven't.
I considered bleaching and dying his hair grey.
Heck, now-a-days with all the plastic surgery,
who can tell the difference?
But, would I like a guy that spent his money
on plastic surgery?
We're having trouble just meeting the bills this month.
He looks great, but what about me,
working my ass off, so he can ride around in my purse
never pay for a meal, flaunting his perfect plastic image.
I'll have to strap him to the lawn mower,
and guide him around to even get the lawn mowed.
Grrrr.... I don't think so,
I'll be waiting weeks on this guy.
Our yard will look like crap.
My neighbor will think I'm stupid, his wife will be laughing at me.
I'll be dreaming of burying him up to his perfect face,
mowing him over... he'll bring out the worst in me.
Hell, that's not good poetry.