by Denise Duhamel

    They decide to exchange heads.

    Barbie squeezes the small opening under her chin

    over Ken¹'s bulging² neck socket³. His wide jaw⁴ line jostles

    atop his girlfriend's body， loosely，

    like one of those novelty dogs

    destined⁵ to gaze from the back windows of cars.

    The two dolls chase each other around the orange Country Camper

    unsure what they'll do when they're within touching⁶ distance.

    Ken wants to feel Barbie's toes between his lips，

    take off one of her legs and force his whole arm inside her.

    With only the vaguest suggestion of genitals，

    all the alluring⁷ qualities they possess as fashion dolls，

    up until now， have done neither of them much good.

    But suddenly Barbie is excited looking at her own body

    under the weight of Ken's face. He is part circus freak，

    part thwarted⁸ hermaphrodite. And she is imagining

    she is somebody else—— maybe somebody middle class and ordinary，

    maybe another teenage model being caught in a scandal.

    The night had begun with Barbie getting angry

    at finding Ken's blow up doll， folded and stuffed

    under the couch. He was defensive⁹ and ashamed， especially about

    not having the breath to inflate¹⁰ her. But after a round

    of pretend-tears， Barbie and Ken vowed¹¹ to try

    to make their relationship work. With their good memories

    as sustaining as good food， they listened to late-night radio

    talk shows， one featuring Doctor Ruth. When all else fails，

    just hold each other， the small sex therapist crooned.

    Barbie and Ken， on cue， groped in the dark，

    their interchangeable skin glowing， the color of Band-Aids.

    Then， they let themselves go—— Soon Barbie was begging Ken

    to try on her spandex miniskirt. She showed him how

    to pivot¹² as though he was on a runway. Ken begged

    to tie Barbie onto his yellow surfboard and spin her

    on the kitcen table until she grew dizzy. Anything，

    anything， they both said to the other's requests，

    their mirrored desires bubbling from the most unlikely places.

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