We smile and pretend to enjoy each other’s company.
A little girl’s tea party isn’t the place for grudges
so we sit across from one another and act civil.
We make small talk and say things such as
“I like what you’ve done with the dream house Barbie”
then exchange thank yous and you’re welcomes.
I’ve learned to hide truth behind a porcelain smile
and let the fact settle in my stomach (next to the scones)
that I can’t stand this fake bitch.
The way she poises herself in the chair as if perfection
was traced from her body and we’re all
still working on the rough draft of our own.
Flaunts her friends as if they were accessories
introduces them by ethnicity first
as if it were a part of their first name
“This is Hispanic Teresa
and this is African-American Christie”
makes it all the more evident that courtesy is sold separately.
She continues small talk after sipping some tea
and says she loves my star shaped earrings
with a hint of sarcasm and cinnamon.
Funny, Ken said the same the other night
behind the toy chest in the Tonka truck
before I whispered “show time” in his ear then
broke him over his own ego.
Stretched his securities through my teeth
in the morning since I was out of dental floss
then discarded them in the trash accordingly.
Poor Barbie, completely unaware of the man eater
sitting across the table unimpressed
in her taste of sweets after rummaging through her pantry.
I should tell her but
a little girl’s tea party isn’t the place
to discuss such matters.
So I sip tea, show porcelain teeth an say,
“I know, they’re truly outrageous aren’t they?”
with a hint of cinnamon and truth.