A young thin sets her back to Ra,
Glistening, covered in a cucumber mask
and the masseur beats oil into her thighs,
Taut, plucked, powdered dry,
Embalmed in beauty's masquerading lie.
Coppertone at 40
Walking on the beach with old woman sighs,
A small dog at her heels,
She is mantled (tankini en shawl),
Modeled in faithfulness and modesty,
But the wind kicks up her shawl,
A finger to her lips, Fido nips,
There is nothing underneath but vagrancy.