These things became what someone said and not what we were dancing to. Our thin hair flying around as if sexy. When she said sexy, we were in a meeting and there were other people listening in. These people had opinions and I was wondering if I was serious. Could the yellow ghost of pleasure pool around my ears like a sensory and bilious act. I wouldn't have to wring it or explain my exertions. I could watch it pass me by. A regular bus with people bursting with apples and work. I could even be on the bus going through tunnels and deaths. I could pat the arm of a death.