Girls Who Love to Think

They are incessant in their attempts to analyze the simplest conditions, to understand the purest mechanics of human procedure.
They are searching for souls for which to share their inquests.
Hoping to recognize enlightenment when it gusts by,
these girls read to understand the messages woven into print.
They find solace in the rhythms of words, and the wavelengths of pictures warm them.
They savor images of anything but their own solidity.
Their mass is an intangible, bleak, shadow.
Mirrors spin a new lie with every moonrise.
A pearl in a clamshell, their hearts are reserved under water and beneath calcium.
Sapphire tears are scarce; they spill for nothing less than the Sublime.
They notice grit, grain, and grease.
Their tongues curl away from fallacies, pushing sugar off their teeth.
Nirvana is a lush field of melody, where their neurons light ablaze.
They want to wring a story from every soul, and drink it drop by drop.