She has a face that only a blind man would love,

Eyes the color of dirty dying grass

Covered over by thick goggles that

Magnify her grotesqueness.

I caught a glimpse of her

As I walked past her car,

And my stomach turned.

Her face is bulbous.

It carries the remnants of a fast-food diet.

Not to mention the acne—

Here a pimple,

There a pimple—

Not all over,

But enough to make her hideous.

Her nose turns up slightly,

Like a pig rooting for food.

I almost ran into her

At the glass doors of the cafeteria.

My appetite ruined, I walked away.

I know you have seen her hair,

Stringy, frizzy, dull, wild,

But not in the sexy way.

No. More like drunken, hung-over, morning hair,

Rats’ nest, cobwebs….

Speaking of cobwebs,

The lines around her eyes and lips:

Little men laid railroad tracks on the road to Oldville.

I see her all the time,

Glimpses here,

Flashes there.

Each time, disgust and bile spew from me like lava.

But the worst is when I wake up,

Go into the bathroom,

And look at me

As I brush my teeth

And comb my hair,

All the time mocking me.