She arranges her designer bag on the table;
I notice the label is upside down
as she raves about collagen and botox
and praises husband number four.
"Are you still living in that same
little house, still married to that guy?"
she laughs through bleached white teeth
straighter than I remember.
"You know, you should trade up
every few years. I got a bigger house
with each divorce -- and you didn't think
I had ambition."
As I struggle to be civil
she leans over to pour the wine,
displays her spray-tanned cleavage
and brags on her new 36Ds.
I begin to tell her about my job --
she interrupts --
says one should never settle
for the cards you are dealt.
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