No one mispronounces her
name the way she wishes.
No habit defines her perfectly.

Except solitude
as it gets tucked inside
the boots of a crowd.

She tells the truth
because she forgets
her lines again.

Going off
script is an addiction
she confesses

at the least possible
moment before boarding
a plane heading east.

When she arrives,
she will plant wisteria seeds
in your bower.

Will ignore the danger
that comes

from knowing you
may not Google yourself,
but she will.