Fury. She is fury. Fury like the waves Of the Michigan Lake On a stormy day. She sees them. Sitting on a window’s ledge Atop a high rise, she is Hanging H a n g i n g Letting the wind feel her And free her As she lets the smoke rise Out of her lips and let it kiss The Sky With Passion. She sends her whispers into the galaxy Where the darkest purple clouds live And black waves Crash And Shake No - it is not a dream. It is a very real scene. A memory of her youth; so pristine.