by Kate Dunbar
No matter what I wear, it looks cheap
from haute couture to charity shop finds.
I put it on and it’s reduced to schmutter
though it appears I’m the only one that minds
“It’s your thing, your look, we expect it,”
These comments don’t make it any better
I don’t want to look like an unmade bed
Or a thrown away crumpled begging letter.
I want to look like the early James Bond, 007
Or a suave international crook, looking sinister
So when I arrive at a meeting or a glitzy event
I’ll hear “Looking sharp tonight, prime minister.”