Wishing I Were Barbie

for P.

Girl, aren't you amazed by menwho occupy space without so much

as a thought? Those who neverquestion the position of the hands

or wrists, never ball the bodyup small at the sight of others?

From a quantum standpoint,we're mostly empty space.

I dream of filling it up. I would stuff itthick with silicone, hair follicles I've lost,

and enough ass to fill out the clothesI'm too ashamed to wear in public.

Like vintage '93 Barbie still in the box,I will be platinum blonde, cruising

with the top down as I pull awayfrom my Malibu dream-

house. Something in that,I want. I'm only not joking. Friend,

I have called myself by many names,shared those names with you in private.

We joke that my poems are more outthan I am. I could spend a lifetime

mosaicking the reflectionsI don't immediately recognize as my own

into something someone might understand.You know the ones that last a fraction

of a second, right before you noticeyour deadself in them? I've read

that some quantum particles behavedifferently when observed. Only I know

who I am when no one is watching.When I die, turn my body to plastic

and play with me as if I am still here.Call me by all of my names. Only then

will you all know the onethat gives rise to my resplendent wings.