Wheelchair girl, wheelchair girl
if I spin you fast enough
will you fly off into space?
I see your eyes, a frequent visitor
stars reflected there,
so you can't see your paper limbs
your pudding arms, thick as twigs.
You huddle and speak politely
like a child with a deathy disease.

You liar, liar
ungrateful, spoiled frightened
come down and stop fishing
for planets with your net.
Oh stars, stars
you brush them out of your hair,
so easily, applying lipgloss-

are you pretty enough yet?
Can you smell the cakes
you walk on with your
leather shoes, are you pretty enough
yet, I hear you cry in the school bathroom
I hear you're ashamed
when you can't see tenderness

and everything's too skyscraper for you,
too New York movie
and invisible crowds walk up and down your
origami limbs, carefully folded in your chair
talking on their cellphones, tell me
are your hands tired of lies?
Do you say kind things to that galaxy girl
are you pretty enough yet