Kick burnt shells out into the road and watch the sparks and the shadows in the dust depart in pairs.
Always in pairs and close enough to be one,
one four legged thing, elephantine, lurching into the fade
until they split at the edge of the dust
and leave each other with everything else.

This far out you wonder how people live even before you're sure they do.
Walls quivering, peeling off the horizon, slick.
Easier if it's just the feeling you're being watched.

Whatever happened here must've been bad.
So bad it keeps happening.
But the company's appreciated and the shadows are dimming
and drawing apart so early now
you can almost miss them.


Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: vistas