I was an Avon lady, in my very early days.
A diehard fan of the Bard that summer,
I fancied myself a Stratford woman.
Today? Well today, here I am.
Lounging in the sun, thirsty and hot
my blue rays turn them green
as I grab a dr. pepper,
antidote to drowsiness.
Stride-rite? But I lean left,
and still seek neverland.
I’ll choose to fly by Wendy’s
every time.
Kate spade dares my counter clubs
and I grimace as victoria’s secret
busts out everywhere.
Target? Not on my back.
The grammatically incorrect hermes
competes with christian dior.
Amen I say to that,
eyes wide shut.
I feel your pain,
branding seared into our hides.
lillian the home poet 