My friends had asked, how was it so, that I had passed
From steadfast salutatorian to being
Such a promiscuous slut
(a redundancy of sorts, but not their words).
But I answered so disingenuously
And with so politely maintained a pretense
Of taking no offense at all:
“Oh my God, I know, I am sooooDissipated
now, you would not believe!”
Ay, that was my very word: ‘dissipated.’
I think I said it with a little cough
As though I were clearing my throat of an
Intractable string of half-hour old jiz.
Sorry: that’s a disgusting image.
‘Dissipated’ itself is rather a
Meretricious word-- which in no way means
‘Merit’ or relates to merit at all; and,
Considering myself a member of the
Meritocracy in good standing
(whatever my extracurriculars)
I should hate to have to own up to it,
Which is why my
thongs all hail from La Perla.
“What a revel! So lovely again to meet!--
Yes, girls, another Cosmo, please. I do
Seem to have something caught in my throat.
husband is the one in the blue polo again?”
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/the-salutatorian.aspx">The Salutatorian</a>