A good plume spray helps me feel whole
but merely the name of a cheese from goats
makes me run to my colognes
What else could it mean      to “become an adult”
but the purchasing power      for creams & powders ~
I swore off soap ages ago ~
My mirror tells me     Beauty is freedom
though it is such a burden too
The staring becomes so tiresome ~
like, for some, grey-eyed glances at their bum ~
yet it does fluff up my wings!
My pigeon-toed wife makes fun
of my obsessions ~
says my feathers are fine without products galore
I will beg to differ      till the day I fly
to that posh city park in the sky