The script was written, & the reality-TV stars were cast.
The Bachelor had to pick one for happily ever after,
tho’ the love story had been written once upon a time.
She was a spelling bee,
always drawn to an English rose or
recreating a page out of History,
but when it came to a Math problem involving Science,
she felt like Barbie trying to get her G.E.D.
The tenants of the Raintree Apartments were complex—
the military wives who cooked the meth,
the potheads who held Ph.D.’s,
the poor Republicans & the rich Democrats,
but all that mattered when a room blew up or there was a bust,
was that they paid their rent on time.
She came home to find her husband in bed
with his literary lover, Ayn Rand,
well-hung above their bed,
for Ayn’s virtue was selfishness,
& he, the most virtuous of all.
When she took the self out of selfie,
she was left with half a rule: i before e.