You claim she's making you restless
with her strings of costume jewelry
and celebrity perfume that reeks
of insecurity and family issues.
But despite all your complaining,
the way I see things, your heart
is just as isolated as this girl's
and you two aren't that different.
She thinks it's funny to call her
peers names that she dug up
out of her dad's expensive yard,
covered in undeserving soil
and pubescent bacteria.
"Dance with me," she says.
"So everyone will think you're normal."
And you make excuses as
disco balls throw cliches
against the rundown walls of a gym