You called like a god, celebrity
or college freshman,
so I put my Nair down, wrapped a towel around my shame,
glued my wet ear to the fragile phone, said hello
instead of, “Why me?” and let you worship, effuse like I
was way more than the wallpaper at my brother’s parties.
I’d been the entertainment once, back before the parties-
whispering nicknames and manipulations, like a kid sister alone can.
That was back before you, drivers licenses,
meet ups. But you were not before forsaken plans,
relationships canceled through no demerit of my own, or rather garnered
for no merit of my own. (I say, I had some!)
Still, your false sacrifice, cheap livestock, I, jaded, basked in.
After all, I was a but a god who couldn’t grant what you really wanted,
was just a bloodline priest to get you closer to the god who came to you in your dreams.
You too would have taken these scraps as what they were, and weren’t, if a leftover like me.