she was standing on the sidewalk under a spotlight in the disconnected darkness

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her slicked hair is long and flowing
shining, glistening, glowing, growing
into flowers, bright and budding
while the light continues flooding
her with nutrients, like those raining
onto her black boughs, necks craning
as we pass her, aquaplaning
slamming straight into the railing
as our lights go out, they're spinning
and the devil's eyes are grinning
and the horn's stuck, it's still sounding
rounding out the scene, confounding
our ascent, the tone is ringing
in our phantom ears, and singing
us to the abyss it's calling
we were floating, now we're falling
while our lady stands there lurking
and her sensual lips are smirking
her long fingernails are scraping
a straight line, through those she's shaping
to form numerals, she's counting
scoring victims, numbers mounting
scrawling up her branches, tickling
her sweet trunk, her sap is trickling
strengthened by success she's sheathing
her stretched roots, she resumes breathing

she's already begun choosing
her next victims, who'll be losing
their lives to her great game of sneaking
into paths along which they're speeding

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