She Limps In Beauty Through The Mall

A monument to modern sins:
    The rows of stores extend for miles
With works of art on mannequins
    The clothes, the lines, the gaudy aisles
Designed by vain Parisians
    Now tagged and tempting, flaunting style.

Through this a mutant woman toils;
    With legs deformed she barely crawls.
Her cysts her pimples, warts and boils
    Are blasphemy to hallowed malls.
Like cathedrals with their gargoyles
    She limps in beauty through it all.

She holds a blouse up to her chest.
    The clerks fear losing clientele.
In her mind’s eye she is well dressed
    She’s Venus in a horrid shell.
Her inner pride becomes expressed,
    A nameless grace that stores cannot sell.