you cannot reschedule, you cant re-anything. laying there on the cement, eyes toward the camera, water bottle in hand. eyes fixed like lasers on a target, dead aim. fashionable hat keeps soft hair from touching dirty ground, old gum, nicotine spit, and a thousand dirty footprints. bathed in orange glow from low-end street lamps and neon signs from better days, short shadows in electrically extended twilight. did you die that night, along with summer weather, along with all the better things that could have been done? tiny nails painted just so, curled around a set of keys. still white little spindles. where's that voice they talk about? where's the music now, girl? what sweet noise is scheduled to come out of that body, motionless on the sidewalk? the concrete absorbs the warmth from white skin. fighting no production.