That vast house there,

Why can it not be mine?

Said the besotted dame,

Whose villa stood tall, lawns, and halls,

Admired, esteemed, a complex being,

Housing an eternal need.

Ah that flowerbed!

Those Dahlias, those daisies,

Those pansies, and

Those pink Lilies,

Why can’t I be thus?

Asked the Desert Rose.

Me, said the Mongrel,

I’m king of this street,

An alley Cat spied he,

Shudder he did then,

With a quiet woof, bowed on all fours,

Envy sneaked down his tail,

Why can’t I be this Cat, he wailed.

x

I want, I want, I want,

Swaying, sashaying,

That figure, that face, that Line.

She starved, she binged,

Between these two states,

She did swing, lithe Modelina,

Envy ate her every nerve,

Lined her every swerve.

Here she lies,

Envy of every aspirant,

Joy meager, enemies eager,

To slay, to slaughter,

The lamb she was.

Here she lies,

Beyond Envy’s strife,

An epitaph is all

One earns in the after-life.