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