Floor length dress and sleeves reaching to the ground
Standing in the middle of the street
Dancing around to the annoying music
Of the car horns blaring around her

Bobby sits watching her
In her plastic folding chair
With a beer in hand
And macabre thoughts in mind

Was the girl going to die?
Crushed under a four wheel drive
Splattered on someone's windshield?
Mangled underneath the tires?

She stands in the middle of the road
Swaying, swaying to nature's cacophonous beat
Her dress sways as she moves
And she twirls and twirls as car horns hon

Like all the others
She was probably looking for attention
Didn't want to die
Only wanted the world to revolve around them

But Bobby felt different
A pang of sympathy
She wanted this girl to live
So she asked her

*Stand in the middle of the street often?