One friend recommends a diet pill.
She shakes like a klutz
struggling with a jackhammer.
Don't worry, she says.
I've lost thirty pounds
in seven days.
Trust me.  In a month I'll be like
a greyhound walking the runway
at a dogshow.  Beautiful.
Everybody will love me.
A co-worker says
The Way To Happiness 
is simple.  Confession.
Confess to mothers
about your lust for their
pubescent daughters.
Confess to fathers
of your lust for their
pubescent sons.
Confession's like a 
diuretic, she says.  
It cleanses your soul.
No, the answer's Electric
Shock, a friend says.
"Beautiful white bolts.
They change your life.
All my friends do it."
What about a good book?
I ask.  He winces
and leans towards me, 
dismissing my comment
as frivolous.  It's
as if he has the inside
on which ponies have been doped
in the next race. 
Trust me, he whispers.
"White Bolts".