I thought of her again today as I read Oliver Miller's "Rain." The narrator's girlfriend declares her hatred for raincoats. Despite the rain, she discards it and leaves it on a sidewalk. She also hates couches.
At one point the narrator asks, "How could you not love a girl who used the word 'mawkish'?"
Because she makes asinine comments about raincoats and couches and eating, that's how. (You dodged a bullet, my friend.)
Despite her, I quite enjoyed Miller's poetic narration. It's a simply scene really, with just a bit more (and not too much more) clarity than William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."