While the kids patronized
The violent nightclubs, the eyes
Took over the face and glued to the light fixtures.

     There were no ideas for it to be filled
Up with, no goodness
For the world to warp.

      The air is plentiful, the demon
Child breathes it in.
Cold hospital air, it is indifferent.

     The panic of the late birth started
As one glance.
I, too, seeped into mother's eyes and lodged myself in her skull.

     The stage of Cosmo tips,
The age of recklessness
And sweaty perfume.

    Such incomprehensible patois, those
Impossible
Dialects of my youth.