Wind St

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I pulled her up
By the sicky hair.
A klaxon in my ears,
And lumpy solids
Laced with hair,
I wind down Wind St,
And my wino winds too.

I drag, she moans,
I berate, she pleads.
She stops, I whine.

Her stomach clenches
But little comes out now.
Hunched, with lush acid
Splattered on the pavement,
We continue ignored.

She stinks of shit
And they laugh
When we try and
Get in. She sits by
The water fountain,
And makes it acidic.

I wonder if the fish will die.
Her fingers tracing the water's
Surface, she glances over at the taxis,
At me.

I wonder if she likes me. I look
At her eyes and the possibility
To enter a new world of being
Presents itself suddenly and I feel
Caught off-guard with the promise
Of the cold departing.

She falls in the fountain
And I wonder if she will drown.
I wonder why I dragged her.
My hands have her sick on them
And I wipe them on a grassy patch
And hail a taxi.