Contempt

She told me,
That while she was sitting out in her car
With her groceries, Before she realized
It was me, And not some stranger-woman
Coming out of the supermarket,
She had thought to herself,

"Skinny bitch, with your black leggings
And motorcycle boots, I fucking hate you."

She told me this, Like she was giving me some kind
Of funny compliment;
Like the old adage wasn't true,
Familiarity didn't breed contempt,
No, no, no,
It negated it.

 I didn't believe her.

　
©Fiona Helmsley