The freckled girl dreamt of Monroe
In the crosshairs of society
She grew blonde hair from a roux doo
Her lips grew, drooped
And the dots of her face were varnished
But the twins who changed places
Ended up instead as Liz
Orange suited
She stares into the barrel of the camera
That same lens that will see her
Turn and cry, disbelieving
Will see
Mother and daughter
Peroxide hair entangled
Share a kiss
Will see
A Porsche crumpled on a highway
“Has Miss Lohan chosen to accept the people’s offer?”
Certainly she has
Sweet dreams, Lohan
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