McQueen is still dead.
'Fashion Week New York'for teenage tv stars is still going on.
The sun is still deceptively bright.
The streets of Hell's Kitchen are still frozen.
Good friends are still falling out.
But somewhere in the middle of this icecube island,
a match struck.
Someone met someone.
And together they jumped into the blaze without looking back.
Ashes to ashes, funk to funky and all that.
That. Ancient bitter bros and sissies,
is what happened last night,
without a single rose having to die.
Love goes on.
Love eats its own.
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