She hated the way her voice sounded
asking for another cheese sandwich
at the soup kitchen 
her accent leaking information
she’d rather keep to herself
her pants cheap and stretched
small gold hoop in her nose
a community service to no one.
She had a PhD in Robotics            
played bass in an angel band           
had a horse and two dogs           
yet there was blackness inside            
every elevator going up and down            
her breast pocket, her pants pocket           
So what if she wanted to sleep in her car           
So what if more than one closet            
was one closet too many           
And the fog of a backyard spooked her            
more than a parking lot sunrise
what happened in the past &
what happens next 
was nobody’s business but her own