The Convention souvenir show
- Karen Chamisso
Bubble cup hair style, wig wardrobe Midge
The nightclub seedy eyes of the fifties Barbie
Ratpack wasted in her fuck me night ware.
“Rare factory updo in debutante ball.”
Turn to model 4598 in the collector’s catalogue:
My Crystal Barbie, her platinum rush
Long relegated to attic storage:
as basket case body she awaits resurrection.
I was eight. Mom had that rich chestnut mane
(See Collector item 11782)
Barbie and I loved the album
Where we admired her debutante glow,
seventeen, by the lion cage at Audubon Zoo.
One night she unfolded that night’s récit
getting sloshed with her friend on the vodkas slushie combo.
Oh the prettiest Claiborne of 1968!
(Her cousin, more plain, has always resented it
-see the “extremely rare 1966 brunette Barbie
with side parted hair” and the mink coat –
from Sears and Roebuck for only $9.99! ).
The pawing Deke she went with – although Mom presented it
To me as though it was all class and station.
Her escort then – he’s long been gay
Her friend has moved from frustration to frustration
And de-toxes often – the family pays.
My coming out was nixed by me
I didn’t want to swan it
In some Junior League fantasy
Much to Mom’s disappointment, among many.
Leda’s paddler me, I could just see my rush.
Even diseased me would surely inherit
the crown, the gown, the buzzing hush
of my strong shouldered partner, my Ken
- Who would he be?
That zodiac of Barbies is now
Dead to me.
Is it my loss that no desire stirs
For the plastic windowed box
Where Super Teen Skipper waits
Eternally for her kiss from Führer Scott?
.
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