Rude much? We live, rue and die all unasked

for, save Kate Warne, chief of the Pinkerton

Female Detective Bureau, who unmasked

the plot to kidnap Abraham Lincoln.

Unasked, unmasked, pain in the ass. Epochs

divide us. Like Lilith in the moonlight,

in Kate’s far scars: bullet wounds and smallpox.

Lilith everywhere. Born a cenobite,

Kate sez’, “I such sights to show you!” Then

she’s gone, man, real gone. Rude: as in, keeping

secrets from you. You are untrustworthy.

Kate hates you. I’m just indifferent. Your sin

does not thrill. It’s common. Common sinning

when it should have been vast and praiseworthy.