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On Why I'm Not a Supermodel

I fly fast and fierce
too high for emotion or fear
or words
I swoop I jab I soar
He tells me "be pretty"
I dive
He thinks money, power, recognition
He thinks sex
I think if I were two inches taller
I could tell if that's a toupee

He says "Please honey
one more time"
He slimes "Stand up back straight chest out
tummy in"
I think if I were ten sizes thinner
I could slip through the linoleum and disappear

He screams "What the hell is this? the clothes don't fit?
do you want to be a fucking plus-size prettyface?"

a magazine is not a mirror

22 October 2000