There were people at the bar where I was born But I don't know them anymore. You were the image in my head when I was born. While they folded into each others mouths Dropping stained teeth on the floor. Then, I saw you in the park when I was four. You burned like a cathedral door. I went back to where you stood, when I was five, All the trees leaned into windows now. Dripping stained glass in my eyes. Then, you touched me on the arm when I was nine. My fingernails cracked with colored lines. And I used that hand to write until I died You walked me back into the bar Each new hair dancing with lice.