Coquettes And Marionettes Poem by Patti Masterman

Mannequins wear the latest fashions
And statues have the best physiques
So, models lives are filled with passion?
(At least that's the current going mystique)

Sweat pants are passe, so I go
To closet, where hang three hundred pants
And select some capris, that aren't too low
To show some calf, if given the chance.

In the olden days clothing was very dense;
A wall to insulate you from the world
Long skirts were a girl's own personal fence
To make sure nothing untoward unfurled.

Even swimsuits then were long and draping
People must have drowned from the weight:
The man with the tape measure, always there saying
You're an inch too short, for the going rate.

I'll stick with the pants, thank you, it's fine-
I'm no sculpture or marionette;
When the thongs and bikinis finally unwind
They can never say I was a coquette.