she's, you know, one of those people— the kind you can just sit and watch while they
sit there & watch her happen.
(she knows what love is but she loves not.)
watch her be happy with nothing. that is,
she trusts everything except things.
she is blithe, she is knowing, she is thin, she is in the café
she does not show her knees.
her weather is drawn
accross her shoulders like a shawl, sprinkling occurence.
her boots will melt the ice she makes.
her feet— skitter along the world.
she doesn't hate.
nor does she ruin—
she simply does.
people picture her old, old and white and crinkled up like paper.
but no, she's as young as day, she's got four tattoos and yes, one's a skull;
she's one-quarter Hispanic and smokes a pack on weekends
she chases snow down like rain, throws little fits at salt
she is blithe, she is knowing, she's perfect
she makes mistakes
her feet skitter along the world.