Tired of taking solo walks / Across this pretty lonesome town / And always ending up so fucked / Every time that we go out (Rivulets)

And the heat from the asphalt / It was liquid and dancing / And we walked to the front door / Like a rock ’n’ roll band (Jeffrey Foucault)

We real cool. We / Left school. We / Lurk late. We / Strike straight. We / Sing sin. We / Thin gin. We / Jazz June. We / Die soon. (Omer Avital, poem by Gwendolyn Brooks)