Ken Dolls

You're so pretty, like a Ken doll. I'm perfectly fine if you stand still with your champagne—the perfect pose. His hair parted perfectly, suits from Wisconsin. He looks like he'd be a collectible; only thing is, I don't play with men who remind me of Ken dolls. With their perfect smiles, I could never trust a man prettier than I. Still, I put him in a glass case to look at when I'm bored. His abs chiseled with such precision—damn, he definitely has Mattel stamped on his ass. I adjust his arms, posing him perfectly as I place him back in his stand. He talks with a flawless voice and always places one hand in his pants pocket randomly. He's prettier than a male stripper—something he'd never do, no, not my Ken doll. Why am I like this? Perhaps it's because I'd be too rough with a Ken. After all I'm not the Barbie type, more like a Monster High Doll. I've been playing with GI Joe's for so long. So I'll shelf this one, only viewing him from time to time, knowing it would never work; he came out in March of 1961.  
 
NP