this town is filled
with un-pretty boys
that see Don Juan looking
back from their shaving mirrors,
their yo-yos, made lovingly
from many broken hearts
collected by swiping
right & before long
dressing up
like Casper...
the pretty boys
don’t play that game,
theirs involves unlimited
players and unlimited lives,
it’s ethical, so no one worries
these boys, the pretty and the un-
pretty, might grow up someday
just to find that they can still
marry a pretty young thing,
and hear that pitter-patter,
yet those other pretty,
young things, naive
(lonely?) enough to play
those games, now with too
many birthdays behind them
find they didn’t need the games
or those boys, pretty or otherwise,
there is now a beauty staring
back from their mirrors,
telling them that they
are the fairest of all,
that there
*never* was
a competition
with anyone else