Twelve dollars and sixty cents
That is all he is worth to me
I lay it grudgingly on the counter and
Look away
He is a "prized piece"
Wanted by many
Had by few
And looking at me behind the bars
Wanting me to take him home
Twelve dollars and sixty cents
Not an expensive dish
Worn paper set upon the wooden table
With thick coins for change
I have given up all there is
And there is none
I watch as he is let out of his domain
His eyes on me every step of the way
He is a pretty piece
A little tall a little small
A little sexy teen-age appeal
With the grin of an angel
Twelve dollars and sixty cents
He is worth nothing more to me
Than those few foreign exchanges
Given to the clerk for a commitment
He is something that I can do without
Within
He belongs nowhere inside
He is a trespasser
With a tranquilizing gun-grin
And blister, burn, and numb my soul
For it has forgotten the fact that
Love will hide when it wants to
And one can do nothing about it
I see a replica of my last piece
Shining on the shelf
Eyes gleaming crystal and expensive
The new tag hanging off like a wispy appendage
I had one of those dolls
But it fell into a million pieces in my hands
And unwillingly, I tossed it into the trashcan
With so many rotten papers
It felt like it belonged there
Amongst the ripped fruit and noodles
And uneaten cans of vegetables that were dented
Looking like a melting cesspool of memoirs
He followed me home
My new item
Twelve dollars and sixty cents worth
And like a canine, did what I said
But like a male
He wants to protect me
Like an averaged thirteen-dollar alarm system
Kissing me, like it's included in the package
And hugging me, like he has batteries
Which never seem to run out
Mechanical "Love Machine"
Get yours today for only $12.60!
More like obsessive machine
That feels love for its owners
With no mute button behind
The angel-grin
Ken doll "Kill"
With his licentious blue eyes
Stands, bare chest gleaming in the sunlight
Plastic heart and frozen smile
My prize piece will have to wait
Awhile
Until I find some standing room on my
Dusty shelves
For the magnificent antique
Collectable figurine of a man
Merely a boy in man's clothing
With the face of an angle
Mixed with the darkness of the devil
And the ability to
Drive a girl mad enough
To run off the road into a pole
Yet, he doesn't break my pockets
As I search around for change
In the glove compartment of my car
Amidst the Lysol cans and insurance cards
And burned off male doll heads
Rolling around in the trunk
Like the sound of rocks and smooth pebbles
Gliding through a cold stream
All still frozen in smiles
And eyes gleaming with tint
Smooth plastic hair
Never out of place
And just think, Barbie could have them all
I had them all
Then I burned their heads off their bodies
And threw them in my trunk
Clunk-clunk-clunk
My new piece wonders what the racket is
Before we arrive at my place
Ha ha ha, silly male
Your head could be next
But not for awhile, my darling
My physical friend for the moment
My lush life when I'm young
My only indulgence
Right here right now
Until I get tired of you and you lose your worth
Twelve dollars and sixty cents
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