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6 regression analysis Back to the sleepy years, rise Of the rear fin and the crenelated pompadour, Moon like a hubcap rolling loose In a night sky, more sex than science, Beyond the evils of geometry at three in the afternoon, Back to the long muscles born out of sweat and throb, Soft hair cradling a face at the sock hop, The nudge of new breasts under blouse and arousal, And records spun at the speed of crazed wheels Taking you somewhere far from yourself, Stars in a thin glitter, burnt out above A swagger of smoke in the parking lot, And then the Sunday bells and church doors open To the half dead and the bed wetters, Past the end of Genesis and deep into Deuteronomy, Black book from which no one escaped, Wound where the scruples put down roots, Years before the fallen protocols and the undertow, Before the wrought-iron agonies, sudden ripples in the heart, Cordage of veins and the ropy tendons, Before the ice, wind-whetted, at the lip of the downspout, And sirens scaring the air with a bloody scream, Blockage of wrecks on a gravel road, plunge of fire In the tapped-out flats built by sawtooth and stud nail, Before the darkness drained over everything, except The unforgiving light in the guilty room. ...

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