Sorority Girl

Your dyed blonde hair.
Your sanded face.
Your nose post-repair.
Your borrowed taste.
You’re straight, love,
Save what the scalpel has spilt.

So much effort
And so much of your trust fund
Just to work down the quirks
That might have made you almost fun.

You’ll land your doctor soon.
He’ll diagram your desires,
Read the chart of your sighs so carefully round.
Your bell will toll,
And never a soul will you astound.

3/12/04