Eyebrow cocked high

Frozen as if posed for a photo shoot

So much sass concentrated into one small section of face

“Excuse me?”

I don’t respond

Distracted by skin

So orange it must make carrots jealous

Not the porcelain

You’d expect a plastic princess to aim at

This is why

At age five

I burned my Barbies

Hung their mangled, battered bodies from my balcony

Then scorched ‘em a second time

Twice as crispy

And now

I have to deal with this

A breathed to life doll in the flesh

But I have some ideas

How can I resist