"Can I make you happier with powder on my chest? Do you need a thousand movie shows? Sixteen million people to ride the bus with, hit the stop--I shoulda never let you go away from home--" Rich lips brooded in my deaf ear. "The fog'll fall all over you, Jacky, you'll wait in fields--You'll let me die--you wont come save me--I wont even know where your grave is--remember what you were like, where your house, what your life--you'll die without knowing what happened to my face--my love--my youth--You'll burn yourself out like a moth jumping in a locomotive boiler looking for light--Jacky--and you'll be dead--and lose yourself from yourself--and forget--and sink--and me too--and what is all this then?" "I dont know--" "Then come back to our porch of the river the night time the trees and you love stars--I hear the bus on the corner--where you're getting off--no more, boy, no more--I saw, had visions and idees of you handsome my husband walking across the top of the America with your lantern... Out of her eyes I saw smoldering I'd like to rip this damn dress off and never see it again!"