Heard him say "No no-yes-but-";
left the no-yes-but in the polyodorous mess
of the alley where the ardor of the brick
faced the lost yet hushed, holy counterforced stress
of dank tea-breath that pressed against
the soaring, dressed-up, early, out-of-it kid
whose face, buckled for the forced haste of a mollycoddling kiss,
strikes against an elbow. What a jolt,
we wonder. Of course. What a jolt.