P osh ladies in velvet smoke cloves and sulk.
E nter a saturnine gentleman who casts no reflection.
N odding clouds of giant gnats slurry forth in gusts to land in crusts on the wall.
N o one comes or goes, yet the room becomes full, then overflowing, with talking punks and the
Y ellow gaze of the stranger.
L ight clots in the stranger’s eyes; whispers issue from his skin,
A nd silence hangs heavy as iron on the neighboring table. He smiles an inward secret, sips
N epenthine green liquid from his cupped, horny hand and offers some to the lady next to him.
E ven she, black as her eyeliner looks, is speechless.