My Hawtsome New Girl

The girl for me

When she told me, casually, that
the pivotal point in her childhood,
was when, as a game, she had
fatally defenestrated her new cat
Mittens, I was sure that she was
the girl for me

Not because
of her rocky, troubled childhood,
her parents divorce,
the exile from friends,
the awkward teen-years
of gangly limbs, late blooming,
angsty art

But because,
she is not slutty,
but licentious
does not accessorize,
but filigrees,
is not sad, secretly,
but dolorous, furtively.

Because, when I asked how I
made her feel, she blushed, replied
“Vertiginous,” and let me kiss her again.