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I can picture every move that a man could make
Getting lost in her loving is your first mistake...

Sundown: you'd better take care
If I find you've been creeping round my back stairs.

Abused child; teenage runaway.
Opium dealer....flapper....prostitute. Vampire.
      Candles giving way to gaslamps, to sputtering electric lamps, to gluey white sodium light...and the brash, ugly neon of midnight in Manhattan.


Clad in a man's black trenchcoat, her posture loose as a child's, Sioux walks the alleys and side streets of New York till dawn.
She's long past fearing these dark urban canyons, valleys of death:
not for her, not tonight.
Death skips at her heel, tugs her eyes from face to face; yeah, somebody dies tonight.

But it ain't gonna be this kid.