Calenture

further:

past fuel silos and stilted houses

the median now feverish    halting

air retains a diesel shimmer.

her thirst is verdant, cerebral

a calling

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

maritime slum

boarders:    interior

girls wander absently

in shift dresses down

fallen stairwells

in a house with no doors.

outside the low road beckons.

pockets of decay

tinge border towns

sulphureous, balmy.

once more white lines

are revelations.

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

    fire soars

home again

all the empty passageways entreat:

    go        sleep with dust.