Stripped of cause, a girl dies on the street. Feet by the sorrows and hands by the beets, she drowns in tomorrows; now all he admits. Eyes concede power, the heart retreats; lips get to flower and all submits. A breast in fool moon, a desire in bloom. Some girl dies at noon on the streets. An entire platoon, they gather, they loom, to accuse him of the crimes he commits.