This is the Plaid One

That fluffy ruffled skirt
swaying with every step
safety-pinned beyond recognition,
she signifies as a catholic girl gone bad
but in fishnets and leather,
Marten’s below
Pistols above.

She is the perfect picture
of punk post-pubescence
and effective affected rebellion.
I am in love

but she would loathe
a straight-laced geezer like me.

If only I could seem
as she does.
If only I could show
that I, too,

am revolting.

If only I were forty years younger
or she forty percent drunker
or the world forty percent more fictional.
Forty percent would do it, though,
of that I’m certain.

Maybe forty eight.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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