The Present
She was clad in midnight blue,
gliding across town in a BMW.
Tipped the valet debutante style,
flashing a toothless Mona Lisa smile.
She had just turned twenty-one.
Dinner and wine were her idea of fun.
All the invitations were sent.
Off to Rodeo Drive we went.
I didn't know what gift to bring.
She was used to all sorts of bling.
All I had was a wrapped book,
earning me a disappointed look.
She was born into privilege,
had no need for print verbiage.
A lack of finesse she did mind,
so she befriended her own kind.
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