She sits on the stool in the low lit room
While the ceiling fan chops the window in half
The window that’s across the street
That is really not cut into two
And with each gap in the fans propellers
you see that it is still a whole window
She is in a live picture
With a shiny black picture frame
With light that trickles down, down on her face
she is hoping that it is not shinning a spot light on the evidence of age
That lay below her eyes, that show her she is not immortal
And will be getting older with every day that passes
While she’s on the stool she’s nervous
And excited at the same time
It seems those two feelings always like to hang out together
Just like inseparable best friends
The girl starts to speak, her voice nasally and quivering
The thing that lets people know that it is her
Not a girl that looks like her
She wants people to like what she has to say
She wants to be listening to something worth hearing
And she wonders what are they thinking
What are you thinking?
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