pretty girls see through me
​
 
a song keeps playing in my head
you know, the one from "chicago"
"cellophane, mr. cellophane"
and i know exactly what it means

it isn't as though there is a look
a sideways glance, a quick averting
of the eyes, with a little downturn
right at the corners of those lovely lips

no, i would recognize that instantly.
that is how cheerleaders look
at the campus nerds, the geeks, the losers
then turn back to their handsome hunks
it is that look that asks silently, sincerely
"why do you even exist?" and we know
 
we all know, there is no answer
and we don't worry about it, ever
those are the harmless dismissals
that we expect from certain girls
whose beauty will fade soon enough

but cellophane is different
when she is so self-consciously pretty
that you don't even register
in her field of vision,
that absolutely nothing
about you is remarkable enough
to trigger a retinal response

those are the looks that kill​