smart, and strangely stupid.
she's the girl you never wanted,
right at your own front door.

fibrous entanglement
on a small, leather-clad backseat.
she knows what to do here.

letter envelopment.
she has the taste to walk away,
and I have my sweet tooth.

under an umbrella,
in the driest part of your town,
she tries to hold a sneeze.

waking up from her sleep,
she can't remember how to yawn,
so she nods right back in.

now she waits and wonders.
now she watches her own paint peel.
now she lifts up her head.

here is where she wanders.
here is where she walks herself home.
here is where I have dreamed.

there is no escaping
the good change that rings in your ears.
there is not a reason.