a slice of pizza

i'm not good
at the next level
whatever that
might be, is it
exclusivity, yes
she says, nodding,
chewing her gum
even harder as
she leans over
her computer
pressing on the
innocent keys.
why don't you
write a poem
about me. something
sweet and soft like
you do for
the others, is that
too much to ask.
what, i say,
while getting
a slice of pizza
from the still
warm box.