The red stream circled and it
circled and it sped straight out.
Happy sailors stretched their
toes in it; pale tunas carried
babies through it.
A shoe-shine boy slouched on a
bench nearby it and ate his lunch
and sang sad songs as his
cut feet dripped pale.
Momma Bruno shook her blankets out
above. Tiny Cozette crawled inside,
peed in her diaper, and drew with
color crayons on cracked walls.
Policemen tagged after the slut;
up on the Hill a source of
scalped sheep seeped stale red.
