White girl, nineteen, has quick answers to questions of how to load a dishwasher and heal a heart.
Ain't nobody got time for that.
Sunday school girl, there every week, talks more about the grammatical significance of the conjuctions than about the jealously tearing her apart.
Ain't nobody got time for that.
College girl, aching to teach, too busy fitting the world into her mind to let the wide expanses of green and blue and brown and gray woo and win and lay waste to her.
Ain't nobody got time for that.
New girl, unfamiliar with the streets that twist and narrow, unfamiliar with the syrupy Southern words that melt into each other and race away. Forgets plans. Assumes too much. Comes over without calling. Tells instead of asking. Projects her insecurities. Realizes what she's doing. Apologizes. Apologizes again. And comes back.
Mmhmm, come on over and rest your feet a minute.
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