still

and the killer is caught,

and his girlfriend weeps

the baby has no chance,

of course,
and the apartment is cold,
the windows loose in their casings,
the grey light of january filling
the rooms like sleeping gas

smell of gasoline,

approach of trains and
               then the fade

an abandoned factory in the

center of town

a wreath of dead flowers

hanging on
the fence that surrounds it

something small for the

world to revolve around