A waking smirk paints her face
young. Her daydreams
have become pages
from old journals ripped
out, restacked, sewn
back together
in an order she believes
would have sustained
such animation. Plagiarizing is
alright as long as she
doesn’t plagiarize
herself. But it’s too much
work to steal from others. That look
is for no one—now it belongs
to these worn-down back streets.