lettuce girl

she doesn't
eat meat, or fish,
or fowl, or
candies, nuts,
cookies, or
icecream. not
a noodle touches
her lips, not
a slice of bread,
or a glass
of milk goes
down the hatch.
no eggs, no cheese,
no chips, no
dip. she'd
rather leap out
the window than
have a slice
of pizza. and yet
she wonders
why she's so pale,
so fragile,
that her skin is
like paper, and
that she often
leans into
a wall before
she almost faints.
where are my keys,
my phone, my coupons
for soy milk
and lettuce is her
often heard
refrain before
staggering out
into the freezing
fifty degree day.