she takes my exclamations as confirmations
when really i’m shocked at her bitterness
calling out pretty sloots and the yacht club girls
tossing her beautiful hair

carrying a bundle of measuring sticks
slipping in small lies
she charms snakes and demons
who curl up her skinny legs

i’m just there to hold her hand
a social crutch, teetering on shoes
trying to suck in my belly
staring at her beautiful hair

my own bitterness holds my mouth
keeps my eyes slanted down up out
as their eyes follow her and i’m
squeezing her hand