Poetic Chic-anery

Pret-a-porter poetry,
accessible and handy,
ready-to-read
with no brain needed.

No avant garde effect
causing stares and smirks
like the blonde on the flight
from Gatwick whose poem was
a balloon skirt – all the rage – but
battered and deflated
on delivery
at the baggage carousel.

Or my first strapless poem
that threatened to expose me
for the fraud I surely was
scattering tissues
on the dance floor
during an energetic jive.

Would you have me
deflated at the carousel? Falling
out of my poem into
waiting arms in embarrassed relief.
My poems are not
haut couture but purely
off the peg.