Today, a girl in a white dress missed her bus.
She ran to catch it, crowded though it was
—I am not one, well, I haven’t, her thighs.
Ay, this Lolita look is all the rage.
She ran to catch the crowded city bus,
I stepped aside, to let her pass me by—
Ay, this Lolita look is all the rage.
How she pounded, pounded on the gliding door.
I stepped aside to let her pass me by,
From the cypress came a falcon, leaden winged,
How she pounded alongside the gliding door,
I saw the bird’s black head, its heavy dash.
From a cypress came the falcon, leaden winged
To the median of this busy four-lane street.
I saw the bird’s black head, its heavy dash,
It ate from off its talons an impaled thing.
In the median of this busy four-lane street,
I watched the falcon eat around its toe,
It ate from off its talons an impaled thing,
The girl in the white dress had missed the bus.
I watched the falcon eat around its toe,
Her dress was also there, also the rage,
The girl in the white dress, her legs, the chase—
I can’t decide the meaning of it: “slayed”.
Her dress was also there, also the rage,
The falcon flew directly to the sea,
The girl in the white dress sat on the bench
And I was left, to hold the bird with me.