Who Is She

She smiles like silver sunlight
She laughs like a low lit lullaby
Pouts like steaming midnight
And giggles like fluorescent Easter egg die

She speaks in a voice tinted by time
An accent tangled and twisted by typewriter-telephones
She sings in ink jet printer tones
And curses like bleeding blaided BanTak feared bones

She shines like Saturday night
Her touch is like an old library's dusty window light
She stands like a shutter shooting through your spine
And taste like candied vodka watermelon rinds

She moves like urgent fiction bleeds
And lays on the bed like a string of wooden beads
To dream like sandpaper stationary
And dying frog pond reeds

I wonder about her sometimes
Who could this strange creature be?
Who is she
This girl I call me?