The Tatooed Girl

I’m in love with the tatooed girl.
She stands in front of me,
waiting for coffee.
From beneath the neck
of her faded t-shirt
yellow bellflowers bloom.
The petals of a pink cornflower
peak from under her collar.
She reaches for her coffee
and reveals
a giant bumblebee sipping nectar
off her shoulder blade.
She’s small and unassuming.
I believe she cuts her own hair.
She has the delicate features of a child
but the impatient look of someone
wanting to be somewhere else.
She doesn’t smile at all,
not even a secretive glint
to hint at the garden
that grows on her back.

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