There are all kinds of people in the world
People who think they’re dead,
People who think they’re made of glass
Making a splendid spectacle
People who say things like ‘MALE-O-DRAMA’
And are ecstatic
You think you’re like me
Go ahead and write the relative probability of that in scientific notation.
I fall the length of every street. And every hall and every bed.
I rise w every frozen, snow covered wave.
I was born a ghost.
I’m behind mile thick marble.
No one will ever be happy w me
I’m too ambiguous, too remote
My clothing has no labels. No wallet. No checks.
The only thing you’d find to trace me is a pack of generic cigarettes.
I’m every plain. Dark haired girl.
I’m every plain, dark haired girl
Who brushes past you
In the street