Whistle - Brisa Roche

Eighteen coming like thunder

Platinum bangs and you under

Driving high on the Cliffside

Black rocks bared by the low-tide

Vapor-girl

The hissing car

Barely veils

Your fleet of stars

Palm on kerosene lantern

You, curled soft as a kitten

Hitch-hike over the passes

You, queen of cutting classes

Vapor-girl

The hissing car

Barely veils

Your fleet of stars

Crossing north to the island

Your ringed fingers in my hand

Puppet-strings over Coltrane

At the twins in the grey rain

Vapor-girl

The hissing car

Vapor-girl

The hissing car

Barely veils

Your fleet of stars