Carabelle is our exquisitely costumed crazy, frilled from her curly head to her curly toes.
Audacious and beautiful, she prances around with a broken, rattling head.
We admire her ruffled petticoats, her impractical boots, and doll-sized hat.
Yet, warning our daughters never to talk to her and our sons never to look her lacy way,
we have condemned insane, little Carabelle to the city's steam-circled edge.
All day, everyday, she imagines far worlds and creatures through her play.
But never ask her to explain or describe, for Carabelle has never found the words to say.