The Bee's Knees (Or Ode To A Plastic Man) Poem by S.A. Blair

The Bee's Knees (Or Ode To A Plastic Man)



Oh boy, aren’t you the bee’s knees
No need for a question mark
An exercise in rhetoric
My thoughts are often dark.

Constructing that white picket fence
So naturally arrived
Mud stained in later years
Even those contrived.

The result of workmanship
That finely chiselled jaw
And your tousled hair?
A considered salon law.

Your clothes just thrown on
With Napoleonic precision
Five o’clock shadow,
A three day decision.

Your throw-away remark
Practised as a thesp
And so deftly tailored
Your off-the-cuff jest.

Windswept and interesting?
I wish, the wind divine
That social anecdote
Learned by rote and rhyme

Those dramatic cheekbones
A theatrical plastic
I smirk as the day approaches
When your waist requires elastic

As you chew upon these lines
Steeped in vitriol
I may be rough and flawed
But I know the goal is soul

Oh boy, aren’t you the bee’s knees
No need for a question mark
An exercise in rhetoric.
My thoughts are often dark.

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