Single White Female

She craves stability
then jumps off the helipad
without a gyroscope.

Uncle London gives her a visa,
a passport to the stars, to infinite space;
she changes her fingerprints,
frantically sandpapering away.

I offered her my singularity,
my heart traced on see-through paper,
my clarity; I sang some Freddy Garrity.

But I was just one of the Dreamers,
not the lead singer with the cartoon quiff.