All the hippest ghouls are out tonight along the boulevard the day calls Sunset
& she’s the loveliest dead girl in sight her skin powdered blank as China White with a torn red bustier
& kohl leather jacket & all the hippest ghouls are just digging it tonight
Amazed she’s stepped out at last beneath these bright piercing klieg lights . . . & in all this neon racket
She’s still the loveliest dead girl in sight walking right beside me holding on tight to balance spiked heels
& spiked hair—black-jet— & all the ghouls parading Sunset tonight turn as she passes
A few even weeping in delight though the tourists look appalled . . . fuck it—she’s mine & the loveliest dead girl
In sight & now on her bedroom balcony as sails of dawn light sift along the whitening hills above Sunset
We’re the happiest ghouls of the night & she’s still the dead-loveliest dead girl in sight