past fuel silos and stilted houses
the median now feverish halting
air retains a diesel shimmer.
her thirst is verdant, cerebral
toward the language of uprooting
a rural tongue
cut through mouthfuls of gravel
slow hints at immersion
beyond the line’s end.
off season we are
girls wander absently
in shift dresses down
in a house with no doors.
outside the low road beckons.
pockets of decay
tinge border towns
once more white lines
abandonment as a plaything
rustles toothless in the tall grass
adjacent vacant lots.
disembarking she walks in blindfolds
remembering the curvature of floor pedals
the blurred resonance of bitumen tributaries.
drowning ends in a glassy sprawl.
roadside altars whisper
all the empty passageways entreat:
go sleep with dust.