my little sister sleeps on the porch
(while we all sit inside, loving her)

Florida is a little blonde shoe
at the foot of her bed

while the antennas drown in sound
I kiss her dirtyblonde hair--

--pray protect her from the sound in my head--
pray protect, from the whistling also blonde

boys in the street
who whip one another with thin

shredded pieces of truck tires.
Then in the haze

between stations of light, the air;
the sweet air turns brunette

and all the crumbled systems go to war.