She's like the first thirty minutes
After a nice massage.
Tranquil.
Reassuring.
The kind of girl
Who loves to cross my mind
Just as much as she hates to look both ways.

And most days,
She wears a smile miles wide.
But that is only most days.

Some days,
She puts on her thick glassy frames
Not so that she can see more of the world,
But so that the world can see less of her.

Some days,
She would rather leave
Her mental house party
For a walk
Down her hometown avenue,
Letting the streetlights
Carve a new way home.

Those are my favorite days.
And those are the days
That matter the most.
Because those are the days
When she calls me.