Jodie - who was looking for

Any place to rest her

Greased hair.

She came to my apartment

Knocked my door once,

Then twice.

I opened up and she asked

For the greatest favor:

“To stay a while.” 

A kettle on the stove where

Gas flames hiss and

As I make her tea,

She asked me why I would

Let a stranger like her

Into my home. 

Truth be told I needed her

To come in and talk

About anything. 

I haven’t listened in a long

Long time, so Jodie,

“Talk to me”.

I laid out blankets and sheets

As well as a pillow case

Without its fill. 

“It’s okay, I really don’t need it”,

Jodie said to me, she’s

Purely nomadic. 

Tempered to lay on the streets,

Or knock on these doors,

Or strap into  seatbacks. 

Over our tea she spoke her truth

With a chamomile disposition

We tighten our dimples. 

I exacto knife’d a piece of her spirit

That night and posted it up

Above my bed. 

Dear Jodie I thank you, though you

Would say I did the most.

But you are wrong.