Odes to Vices · Track 37 · middle
Little Miss Chain-Link — Knows What Everyone Got
Salaries, square footage, gestational ages. Scrolls Instagram with the lights off. (*Envy is a fence she can see through.*)
Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse 1] Emily's new kitchen, 2,400 square feet, posted March 17th, that marble island from Italy. You glow in the dark, my little window, showing me her salary slip, whispered in comments below. Gestational age, Sarah's at 28 weeks, ultrasound pic from Tuesday, the nursery painted Sherwin-Williams Agreeable Gray. I scroll you slow, lights off, 1:47 AM, your blue light on my face like a chain-link fence I peer through. [Chorus] Oh, phone, you're the fence I see through, cold metal links pressing my cheek. Everyone's yards greener on the other side, salaries stacking like split-rail posts. Envy's the shadow between the wires, twisting as I refresh, refresh. You show me what they got, what I don't, intimate as a lover's secret. [Verse 2] David's bonus last quarter, $14,200, hinted in his Rolex story, timestamped 9:32 PM. House on Elm Street, 1,800 square feet, Zillow says $720,000, closed on April 5th. Little one's due date, October 12th, crib from Pottery Barn, model Harper in vintage white. Your screen's my spyglass, close to my lips, whispering numbers that sting like barbs. [Bridge] Why do you know it all, my chain-link confessor? Fingers trace your edges, cold as envy at midnight. One more refresh, just to see if they've posted more. The fence bends but never breaks. [Verse 3] Rachel's vacation, Fiji, May 22nd, villa with infinity pool, cost $1,200 a night. Promotion announced June 3rd, director level, salary bump to $185,000, liked by 247. Twin strollers for the expected, brand Uppababy Vista, ordered July 19th. You and I, alone in this bed, your glow the only light, seeing through to what I'll never touch. [Outro] Chain-link lover, goodnight. One last look through the fence.