The cop holds me up like a fish; br he feels the huge bones br surrounding my eyes, br and he runs a thumb under them, br br lifting my eyelids br as if they were br envelopes filled with the night. br Now he turns br br my head back and forth, gently, br until I'm so tame and still br I could be a tiny, plastic br skull left on the br br dashboard of a junked car. br By now he's so sure of me br he chews gum, br and drops his flashlight to his side; br br he could be cleaning a trout br while the pines rise into the darkness, br though tonight trout br are freezing into bits of stars br br br under the ice. When he lets me go br I feel numb. I feel like br a fish burned by his touch, and turn br and slip into the cold br br night rippling with neons, br and the razor blades br of the poor, br and the torn mouths on posters. br br Once, I thought even through this br I could go quietly as a star turning over and over br in the deep truce of its light. br br Now, I must br go on repeating the last, filthy br words on the lips br of this shunken head br br shining out of its death in the moon— br until trout surface br with their petrified, round eyes, br and the stars begin moving.