Too Sexy for This Store

Hustling through the

supermarket at Columbus Circle,

making my way toward the exit,

I nearly knock over an actual supermodel.

Whose glossy image

I once revered. The face

of magazine covers and music videos,

who has strutted a million miles on catwalks

an iconic beauty

milling about the produce section.

Even without airbrushing, she is

stunning and,

oh my god, so so

thin.

Am talking like, your

dehydrated corpse

would look chubby next to this woman and—

STOP!

I push back against the supermodel comparison.

Repeat after me:

Other womens’ bodies

are none of my business.

The role-model model of my past

doesn’t appear any happier

or any less happy than me.

I smile a hello,

and we both sidestep through the crowd

toward our

own             separate destinies.