Her mouth is fully automatic.
She is hysterically realistic.
Sometimes cynical, sometimes mystical.
She’s happy to remain enigmatic.
She thinks philosophy is a bummer,
But she knows more than you think.
She goes barefoot in the summer,
And doesn’t care if her feet stink.
She keeps an exquisite garden
And her freezer is full of venison.
While she waits for the henna to harden,
She might recite Alfred Lord Tennyson
In her adorable Appalachian accent:
“Why are we weighted upon with heaviness,
And consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?”
She knows the location of fifteen waterfalls,
She has them all marked on a map.
She has Polaroids all over her walls.
She’ll hike for miles to find a place to nap.
She listens to classical music in her car
But puts on heavy metal at home.
Her dog is off-leash, he never strays far,
And all her cats are free to roam.
If you’re out of cash, you can do her favors
To buy a bit of her homemade moonshine
That she Infuses with strange flavors
Like lavender, sage, and clementine.
She gigs with all the local bands,
She plays bass, banjo, and harmonica.
She dreams of touring far and distant lands,
But has no plans, that’s just Veronica.
Her daddy taught her how to grill and build bikes
And her mama taught her how to roll a blunt.
She’s an expert in everything she likes,
But when she’s bored she’ll pull a stunt.
She has her GED, but she wants a PhD.
She’s not saving up to pay for it,
But she studies like crazy at the library.
If she wants something, she goes for it.
I watched her kill a raccoon with rabies
And then dispose of it without a trace.
She thinks most men are babies
And she said this to my face.
I’ve known her longer than most.
People don’t believe I never kissed her
Because I follow her around like a ghost.
She’s my sister from another mister.