Her hair was the color of cattails in Autumn.
She smiled widely,
Spoke too quickly,
And her hands fluttered about her face.

She said to me:

“So here I am,
Waiting for God to come,
But He’s too busy buying a pack of camels at the corner store.

“He looks at me like he hates me
But he doesn’t know me enough,
Not to hate me anyway.

“See my arms?
Here they are, fragile and dusty as butterfly wings.
Not as pretty though, never as pretty as a Monarch’s.

“See me?
Glittering, covered in diamonds?
But I laugh like broken glass bells.
You can hear the cracks in it, listen:

”Crick! Crick!

“Nobody’s perfect is what I say
But They had it first
So I guess I’m a liar.

“Whats the point of truth anyway?
Reality is the biggest lie,
Not like we’d die without it.

“Not that living’s all that great,
Especially when gods are at the corner,
Too busy exhaling this menthol universe

“Watch out for the flies they keep swatting away
Couldn’t have answered all the prayers.
Sad thing for the flies.

“And I’ll never have a Monarch’s wings
Or be covered in anything other than reflective glass
Its hard to get it all straight,
And remember what’s real.”