there's a hot-time nevermind madling, and a girl with her back strapped to the wall, hair pushed to the side, knocking over shampoo bottles with the tips of her toes, one by one- into the too-cool water. and there's a ten year old song you've never heard before on the radio. and the treebranches she brings into her bedroom. and knowing she keeps a pocket knife in her jacket just for fun. wet white teeth. somebody loved me clean. the old fire wood. witch wire snares. walking in the dark. did this man find a woman under his kitchen sink. did he hold her with hands scabbed over like an old man's nose. up at ungodly hours of the morning.  we hold hands.   up like the electrical tape wrapped around her ****. we have no heroes. we try to hold conversations. we try to keep our cool.