She is wildly unpopular, yet loves herself,

despite all evidence to the contrary,

beyond reason, failing to reach the proper conclusion,

which is self-evident, yet never seen.

The truly awful, grating, insistent pitch and timbre

of her voice alone is not what drives people away,

it is the words themselves which fall with such certainty 

that the thud she hears is mistaken for something else.

The poor girl had the misfortune of being born to wealth, 

was knee-capped by an ivy-league education,

skillfully married into more wealth, and enjoyed success 

of the kind which rewards persistent ingratiation.

She often finds herself alone in a room

when only minutes before there was a crowd,

never adding two and two to make four,

she forever comes up with fives and sevens.

As for looks, none of can claim responsibility for that, 

good or otherwise, in that she rises above her station 

by way of making herself the standard

by which all others are judged, and judged harshly.

In micro-doses she is no less tolerable. Her thinking

on matters of humanity are humane but impersonal.

Her causes are upstanding, her proximity to them is not. 

Her cultural taste is privileged. She will not be inconvenienced.