so much wild hair
         going along schoolhalls
                        groping
               for undefinables,
          a walking smokestack,
                    quiet, like a city burning,
                          ten thousand miles away
                  where the gray never rises
                     and everybody dies in their sleep

                   hold your breath,
                             boy,
               under the quilts
            the radiator fumes
                come from her stomach
                        her fingertips,
                             her.
                             her teeth.