Attack of the Clones
(after Linda Pastan's "Angels" )
I am tired of fake girls,
Cloned and bleached,
foundation caked.
Inch-thick eye liner, hiding the children they still are,
masking the innocence they pretend to have lost.
I am tired of exaggerated emotions,
I love you’s and other sorts.
Chain reaction tears and
dependability for eating, breathing, speaking;
rights stolen by the communist A-list.
Souls only visible orange, damaged-skin deep.
Remember kindergarten, I want to tell them,
wearing first day dresses
and hair in carefree tangles,
Laughter and pure and original.
What does conformity mean?
It smells like Abercrombie & Fitch
and takes a real girl and makes her forget.