Crystal drops by my room
just as I’m about to empty out
evacuation efforts delayed.
Her eyes meet
my distended belly
as we talk about
“cute Mike,”
the one she made out with once
who is growing increasingly
obsessed with her.
Crystal warns
I should maybe watch my diet.
What a Control FREAK.
I rush upstairs,
set about the efforts
I intended all along.
Shower and dress
in a tight black tank top with jeans.
Showing off my expert crisis response.
Crystal laughs
when I come downstairs.
Says those sweats
must have just made me
look fat.