School of the deaf with a playground
In a tangle of dead weeds and trash
On a street of torched cars and vans,
Here then is the white and red banner,
Grime-streaked and wind-torn,
Still inviting us to the GRAND OPENING.
The one with a flamethrower hairdo
Who set all our hearts on fire,
Where is she today? I inquired
Of a ragged little tree in front,
While its branches took swipes at my head
As if to knock some sense into me.