He peers at me, twitching his head to the side,
a bird with an inquisitive gleam in his penetrating onyx eye.
The park benches whisper, “He touched us,”
awakening the dormant monster of envy from within a deep well.
The air has a thick, sludgy taste of smog and exhaust,
I smell the leather encasing his arms
as he swings his hand up to take a drag.
This boy loves to eat San Francisco.
Mist engulfs him as he loiters by a fountain in the Park.
The crap of pigeons dresses the lawn.
I glare at him as he calls me Barbie.
Those plastic dolls have nothing on me.
Je le desire regarder moi.
Grasping my hand, he raises our arms,
wings flapping, trying to take flight.
finally, some insight into the mind that is Barbara!!! Though I don't completely follow it, I am very intrigued and wonder where the inspiration comes from
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