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Glamorous Girls

Glamorous girls,
They know each other so well,
The stories they tell,
Of shopping trips,
Plumped up lips,
And what's that gorgeous smell.

The happily married,
Domestically salaried,
Trophy wife,
Living the good life,
A Domestic Goddess,
Who's never used a kitchen knife.

The cappuccino queens,
With chocolate sprinkles,
Self assured has- beens,
With tan lines and wrinkles,
All hidden beneath,
Your top of the range,
Overfinched front teeth.

I'm listening Intently,
To what they say,
Your husband has a Bentley,
And you work- out every day,
Peddling hard but you can't escape,
The smiling picture of Dorian Grey,
Going going going grey.

All men are your audience,
With a front row seat,
Let the floor show commence,
Air kisses, electrolysis,
And the golf resort in Crete,
She's giddy on attention and mirth,
The grandmother of invention,
With the wrong date of birth.

I'm watching you intently,
And what you wear,
Your lips, eyes and light facial hair,
And in the mirror who do you see ?
A semblance of 1983,
And what about when you smile at me ?
'He's not much of a talker'
'An unrepentant MILF stalker'
'Engaging in puerile fantasy'.

All the world is such a stage,
On which we watch each other age,
From different points on a different page,
Caged in time and place we cling
To the comfort our possessions bring,
Your great grandmothers wedding ring,
That still remains as bright and gold,
Whilst around it another generation's
skin turns old.