This city is haunted And the dead roll snowmen by streetlight Holding their translucent hands over the bulbs When they hear the living cars chug through
Here, music plays to itself Jackaling the wind Holding wolves by the ears The dead give their sculptures Strawberries for *******
The living laugh and point To the shoe tree The dead have made with old sneakers Their children climb and live in At night
Under this tree Joining them in the frozen mud Turn to ice We travel on the wind more easily that way Splitting our bones Like vultures This city sleeps In flames