Curiosity lingers on lazily woven threads
dipped in salmon and laid loosely on my skin,
charring my charade for what it’s worth.
I make a toast like burning sage
in hopes to take my fishy smell away
or their nosey noses from their prey.
Put on a good show for those neighbors,
those kleptomaniacs dressed in white leather
lined within livers;
it’s silk chardonnay.
Democracy is cinched at the waist–
vote for the best skinny dip,
vote for the most likely to slip
and confess their vault is for show
like the forged paintings on their walls.
Or vote for the cleanest cuticles…
Mani-pedis are useless
like fingers crossed for ring
and whatever the hell pinkies do
as they stay alert before their slur
overcomes any initial amusement.