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Dave Bonta
fresh bling as false
as a street of canvas
pretty is the simplest
look I took to
so I consider the picture
that shall master me
cut and make an end of it
behind the ear
to mar is better
than to be plain
no hat cost as much
as a face done fine
the bridegroom and bride
both red in the morning
they give them a piece of chalk to lick
which makes them white in the flesh
with so much appearance
reality was left to sleep
why does she walk like that
why does she talk so loudly
why does she have ugly, yellow teeth
why does she have that fat on her tummy
why does she look at herself and say these things..
The fine golden hair,
White shiny teeth,
Hourglass figure,
The definition of beauty,
With eyes as blue as the sky,
Full, luscious lips,
Strong legs like that of an athlete,
The definition of beauty,
Silence fills the room as she enters,
Heads turn instantly,
Mouths agape,
The definition of beauty,
With all attention on her,
She opens her mouth,
Stumbles over her words,
In a cringe-inducing sound,
Not “a youth with hoary head and haggard eye”,
But an old man with a smooth skin
And black hair! I had the face of a boy as long as I lived,
And for years a soul that was stiff and bent,
In a world which saw me just as a jest,
To be hailed familiarly when it chose,
And loaded up as a man when it chose,
Being neither man nor boy.
In truth it was soul as well as body
Which never matured, and I say to you
That the much-sought prize of eternal youth
Is just arrested growth.