vagrancy

he makes patterns in milk,
a rosetta for the girl
washing her hands in the sink.
he speaks of love
delighting in watching her cheeks turn pink.
she wanted him to love her
upon a time
she hoped
just maybe
but then he said
"it's no good
when all the girls i fall for are crazy."
and eyed her keenly
daring her to speak.
but i won't ask him to save me.
i won't make a sound.
won't plant my high heels in his back
or throw myself at his feet
weeping wretchedly
staining my poor eyes black.
instead,
i'll pass the time in wandering
shuffling around town
combing the streets in my vagrancy.
all my earthly goods
carried on my body.
i'm searching the city
for somebody who loves me.

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[Ed Hart]

If I didn't say at least this much, you wouldn't I cared. Oh, the poem? Well, yes, it is that...perfect, you know.