Once, I dated an amazing looking girl,
A life-size Barbie with no physical flaw.
She stands toe to toe with the beauties of the world;
Men and boys would stare at her with awe.
Though she may possess the perfection of woman's form,
Her heart beats the rhythm of an immature child.
Her tantrum erupts like a sudden April storm
With no dissuading the logic of a girl gone wild.
She wants what she wants, with no apologies.
Even if it's something the situation doesn't allow.
"Can't it be fixed with modern technologies?"
She screams, "I want it and I want it, now!"
Cognizant of my distaste for her demeanor,
I took great pain to suck it up day after day.
But failing to change the bag in the vacuum cleaner,
My peeve finally spilled over the other way.
I started to focus on two minor flaws
That normally would not be a deal breaker.
She smokes cigarettes without a pause
And curses like a whore from Hell's half acre.
The beauty, whose match was once unmet,
Is now obstructed by these two specks in my eyes.
I see only her lips holding a cigarette
Between which the flow of profanity never dies.
(Just in case you were not able to figure it out, it's about American culture.)