Beauty Is Murder

Beauty is Murder
They come in
Wearing their eating disorders like fashion
And men like purses.
They take their seats
And order a healthy, hefty meal.

Missus Stickin pulls back her shawl,
Exposing bony shoulders
And ribbed cleavage.
She takes a razor out of her clutch
And drags it over her lips
Imperial Pigeon Blood,
she says,
Emphasises the plumpness.

Miss Blanch takes her boyfriend by the arm
I got the latest model,
she brags,
Fifteen percent of ambiguous European descent.
Foreign,
they say,
But not too foreign!

Miss Grimace, admiring her manicure
And sporting an off-the-counter skin tone
Smiles
I hear there's a sale today at [overpriced upper crust boutique]
5% off on endangered fur coats.

I'm a leather girl myself,
says Miss Blanch
Lifting up her never-worn, too-cropped
100% Indian cattle leather jacket.
Missus Stickin and her stick thin legs,
However,
Like to be adorned with the scales of desert sliders.

They stand together
Simultaneously
And leave arm-in-arm
Without touching their food
Or leaving a tip.