My little sister has fallen in love
         with herself--
She loves the way her hair moves
          when she tosses her head--
She loves the way her cherry
           lip gloss makes her lips shine.
She loves the way she walks,
           confidant, and praying
that people are watching.
            She is realizing the power
of beauty and youth
            and she is
drunk and drugged and high
                     on it.

She smiles,
       imagining how beautiful and slow
                    it must look
thinking it looks natural--
        thinking that is what gives it
                            charm.
It makes my stomach churn.

She arches her eyebrows,
        slides her eyes away from me,
aware of every move,
         of every inflection in her voice,
haughty.

My little sister has fallen in love
             with herself--
andI have fallen out of love
                  with her.
What I love must be more than
painted faces in mirrors.
                       --May 28, 2001