Her eyes poised dreamily in the mirror.
Hands combing hair.
A small, simple effort,
To look like one of the boys.
One of The Beatles.
Oh, anyone will do.
As she thought this she realized it was vanity.
Her lips turned sour.
“God I want to be a boy. One of the boys. One of The Beatles.”
She could sing, twist, and shout when she tried. But nothing could hide her red lips and a curving frame.
She would have fit right in.
On a poster with The Fab Four.
No one would ever know.
Why God, couldn’t she be a boy?
One of the boys?
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