There's this thin person.
I don't trust her.
She doesn't even finish
her salad.

She says “No, thank you” when
the canapés come around.
She professes to love “exercise -
sex with the lights on,
and flesh revealing
tropical vacations.”
Sure, she's happier than I am.
She has a lot of energy,
a nicer wardrobe, and
a tattoo that draws attention
to her perfect --
whatever.

Her lips don't touch the tines of the fork
when she eats cheesecake.
Wait -- did I see her eating cheesecake?
I think I did.
She is definitely eating cheesecake.

Maybe I should invite her out for
a glass of wine.