She says to me
how she loves
the way I call
her by her
own name
the most charming
and perfect
girl, some would argue
but I know
her name
I call her up on the phone
when she gets low
conversation drops
sometimes like mud
sometimes fresh water
out of a spring
of the foot of a mountain
the first of many,
the last one she tells me
others have called her
a whore or a disgusting
title besides her
true name
but she's good like me
like dirt, like grass
or the black sizzling sidewalk
cheek bones graced with smiles
and I know her
name
wonder if it gives
her reassurance.
