she says she's a transplant
with hungry and ravenous roots
eating up each city she visits
from LA to Boise, now to Vancouver
she's needing company,
maybe a daddy or three
she says she's a growing tree
but I haven't seen life on her yet
leaves are not green, they blow
away with the wind
this one's for her, the bad luck
sapling, I'm hanging my losses
upon her branches in the hopes
that she will follow me
