Garbo

Galatea was no match for
what Hollywood made of you.
Before the wave and braces;
before the dark, dark glasses,
before the movie magic machinery
you were real and pudgy,
an ordinary shop girl with bad teeth.
Then talent and timing conspired
like twin Pygmalions,
to sculpt you into something divine:
a temptress
with a stare that dared
and a pout full of doubt.
Amid torrential accolades
and ardent public fanfare,
your stern seduction
warning always of just a little something
sinister underneath
like the seductive Mata Hari,
her art enfeebling sex.
You are the two-faced woman,
weary of the melodrama
that you can't but help
until there was that inflected line...
taken and misconstrued
from one grand movie
to your majestic mystique:
I want to be alone
... And then Ninotchka laughed.

©2006 b.cisek