her hair smells like
it needs washing; looks it,
too. her eyes don't have them
pretty gold flecks that used to
make people stop her in the street and say
how she looked like Jackie
or even more beautiful.
And
what happened to
the baby girl I knew? Where'd she get them
ugly scars on her legs
and arms and neck and why's she
picking at them making it worse
like she wants to bleed?
when I say that to her she changes
and tells me to shut up--
her face cold and blue and ugly.
she looks down at her hospital
gown made of paper
the kind that feels naked
And she starts laughing
laughing laughing
like she's laughing her sorry life away
or at me for wanting to care
making me think she really is crazy
and that this is crazy, me being here
that all those stories were probably true
until she stops and tells me
to just get out
and I do
because I've always loved her.