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The ring that turned my finger green,
the dress that never fit my kid,
the bootleg “Best of Mr. Bean”
(please don’t ask me what I bid),
the schnauzer-scented mini skirt,
the jersey that arrived pre-frayed,
the textbook jacketed in dirt
(never mind how much I paid):
colossal rip-offs, one and all.
At least they’ve left me wiser, though.
No longer am I ripe to fall
for scams endangering my dough.
My heart won’t thump. I won’t equate
lush photos with a cause for spending.
eBay, we are through! But wait—
a Barbie auction? When’s it ending?