To know her is not just knowing her
name, birthday and her favorites.

No, to know her you have to notice all the
little things that make her, her.

The way her fingers tap when her favorite
song is playing out loud.

The way her eyes always search for that
one particular person in the crowd.

The way she holds back a smile when
his name is mentioned.

Most of all, how she is when she is all by herself.

Nothing shows better how a person is,
than their behavior alone.
Then she is a hundred percent herself,
and that, my love, is the girl you want to know.

on the street corner
waiting for a body to come along
'oh, jesus, oh, lord'
the man just wants a hug

throw a man a home
spare his dog a bone

cough of a smoker
chest with a wheeze
one sits in a resturant
while anothers begs on his knees
'please lord, oh please'

ignorance a bliss
public sphere bubble
'look man'
'i don't want no trouble'

'could i trouble you for a penny'
share one of your many
what's a woman begging for
judgement decides she is a *****

a million to one
help out the addict of a son
and i ask you sir
while you moan and groan in your animal fur
'are we all human, only divided by materials'

A girl in a snow globe, delights in her world,
she watches, enchanted, as the snow falls down,
it drifts and glides and swirls around
before finally landing upon the ground.
until one day she notices the glass,
and she understands (realizes)  the prison at last.

There was a time when you and I
were impossibly tied to one another,
when we reached the ends of our ropes
we had no place to go but each other.

Years of the world trying to pull us apart
had only made us more tightly bound,
but when it came time for us to part
there was no way we could be unwound.

The problem with knots is when they get too tight
and you no longer want them teathered,
you're left with a single heartbreaking choice:
one end needs to be severed.

A rope that's cut will lose its strength
and the ends will begin to fray,
so one would expect it to loosen in time
until it finally falls away,

but even though my end was cut
the day we were torn apart,
the piece of me that remained tied to you
became the chains that still bind my heart.

Couldn't you feel the dust from fingertips that traced print as if it'd know flames tomorrow?
Couldn't you feel the coldness of an empty bed deserted long ago to candlelit expeditions into lost rooms of ancient pyramids?
Couldn't you see the craters forming underneath the eyes of someone who dreamed of picnics on the moon?
Couldn't you see the color in her cheeks from sunlit days in meadows with Thoreau, Hemingway, Plato, and Longfellow?
Couldn't you see the flimsy rib cage of a thought-starved girl whose curiosity hungered like soggy wildflowers for sun?

And she was curious about everything, but her most curious of her curiosities was you.