White faced woman white cross
Her withered eyes at the other side of the screen
Haunting my college days
Those nights in Turlington Square
Breathing in the clove smoke at midnight
Hop on the 34 thinking
How do you spell Kirosawa?
That old woman, her antique horror
From a nightmare I never had
Young minds in silence stoic no professor
White witch on the loose
For me those nights were hard trying to figure out who I was caring so much what people thought of me wanting people to envy my intellect everything was just a jumble it was gross gross gross
Light – hear the crackle
Smoke billows
The woman
She’s sitting atop the rock and my god that will stick with me
Vending machine quarters muddy coffee it’s something
Steady slippery cobblestone
The woman shuffles over holy ground but no preacher
His tin can’s at home – his cross is in pieces in the back of his Civic
At least he believes in something
The heart of campus
Buses usually bustle like blood cells
Tonight it’s quiet
I walk and the woman walks
Frat row chapel the bat house
People are sleeping the bats are up
Sonar screams pierce the night sky
And I
Walk alone except that woman
She hobbles in at on algae covered steps over down on concrete
Bumbling apparition
I lost her in the graffiti wall
There’s a white witch on the loose
But I lost her
My eyes don’t soak in images like they used to