Beguiling eyes betrayed her glowing smile.
No amount of Crest could hide
an absent father and jealous mother
lurking behind hazels.
She commanded attention:
red stilettos, a mini skirt, legs for miles.
Long fingers artfully cradled a dirty martini.
She…bitter as an unpitted olive.
“This one’s for Jagger,”
Her friend folded napkins
into origami planes on the far table.
The Bird's Song 