There they are
Buff and tan on that beach in Bali,
Surveying the world from a Rocky Mountain crest,
Ringing in the New Year from Times Square.
Some part of you resents their easy smiles
And their ready fortunes.
Of course, they never took pictures
When she was arrested for DUI
After crashing their Honda into a light pole.
That moment was not for public consumption.
There they are
Out off the coast in their new Chaparral,
In a limo with seven other beautiful people,
Celebrating his 40th birthday,
Flaunting their backstage passes
To the Beyoncé concert.
Your last concert was Joan Jett at an Indian casino,
And for your last birthday,
It was board games and beer
With four friends in attendance.
Of course, they never posted
About the time he was fired and sued
For sexually propositioning multiple women at work.
When one holds up the iPhone, the other says, “Get my best side.”
There they are
With a credit card debt nearly twice your salary,
Fighting over how much money she wastes at the MAC counter
And he wasted on his infidelities,
Engaging in increasing silent resentment,
Staying together for their children.
Their Facebook pages are not your mirror,
And they are as true to life as Disney’s Pocahontas.
So, Relax. They’re farts smell just as bad as yours.