There’s the daylight in ruins,
and you here willing to be ruined too,
willing night to crawl across a city
full of men wanting to ruin you.
Here comes one now, ripe
with appetite and impulse,
without a clue of what it will take
to pull you out
of these details drowning
in orange and blue,
and into his own picture --
but you’re clear on that too,
transparent with buttercup hope
that this time will be different,
that this one will know how to see you.