Listen. Boys be trained like go wait stay shop. They purse and cuss on cue, like television, and step out through black window dress like doors. I’m a street animal then, named, turning looking spitting carrying cantering, missing my throat through which three words saying, My ponytail, my chest, my see-through blouse pass smooth, Baby. Car horses, car bikes, named Baby. Siren, floral bell, like floral white that serves and will window from another reflection. Beneath the church porch ivies clutch my blouse. I’m inside. Take me. Wait there. I’m still inside. I hover. Leave. I hover through, I’m told, and by.