HE SPEAKS IN LABELS
He makes labels a measure of his worth
While in the days of old,
Worth would be measured by his girth.
Now it’s Hermes, Berluti, Izod, and Polo.
The GT this and the STS that,
But when I say my XLT, he’s incredibly bored.
He rolls his eyes; he knows it’s my Ford.
Botega Veneta? Refresh me – is that his hat?
He wears a Rolex which, of course, is Presidential,
Making my hubby’s GMT so inconsequential.
I’d just like to slap his Versace
And polish his Berluti with his Tommy Bahama.
I’d replace his Rocabar,
With a bunch of Old Spice
Now I know what you’re thinking –
She’s not very nice.
Well, he doesn’t care if I paint or if I write
He only cares if I wear Birkies or Crocks.
I’d like to put his ZO6 up his, er, up on blocks
And hide those run-flats just for spite.
©Copyright February 15, 2007 by Annette Morgan
This poem inspired the response, “The Knock-Off Life” ~ ©Copyright February 17, 2007 by Robin Amy Bass