Found after a storm upon the beach amid a pile of driftwood: a well-dressed Barbie doll and, unlikely as it sounds, beside her a small plastic statue of Michelangelo’s David.
She didn’t mind his nakedness
(she, too, was naked beneath her clothes)
or that he was sexually impaired—
for so was she as everyone knows.
She didn’t give a fig for art
but loved to hold his man-sized hand—
just any Barbie with her Dave
alone where waves caressed the sand.
She knew that he could not care less
about her trendy clothes, her fame,
her countless glamorous careers,
or that she was a household name.
They lingered with wood enough to burn
if a cozy blaze were their desire.
If left alone they’ll never leave
unless the wind and waves conspire.
But even if the wind should blow
and waves should wash them both away,
their plastic hearts will feel no loss
nor beat less fiercely than today.