“She’s just a perspicacious girl,
peeking past her long dark hair,
her finger twisting one dark curl
in the candle’s golden glare.
Oh, she doesn’t miss a thing,
no matter how she tries,
and when they ask about her ring,
she answers them with lies.
None of them like her anyhow,
but they’d love to watch her fall,
and they ought to realize by now
that she always knows it all.
She wonders where that waitress went
who was so nice the other day,
and she wonders what he could have meant
when he smiled at her that way.
He’s gone this time for good -
she’s already figuring it out,
but they keep on telling her she should
give him the benefit of the doubt.
His ring is in her pocket and
her heart is in there too,
but she’s trying not to understand
the where, when, why, and who.
Every time the door gets opened
by all the people coming in here,
she can feel another hope end
and the truth becoming all too clear.
Her life was one big holiday -
she was feeling so fantastic -
now everything she has to say
comes out sounding so sarcastic."
A lyrical poem about the kind of girl who always seems to know a bit too much.