the sun strikes four.
Small birds
make sharp sounds
as they kill.
I sit in soft light
my back aches
my front aches
tea is beside me.
Traffic streams
not bubble/gurgle
but rain sodden thunder.
Trucks and utes
and buses and bikes
and vans and cars
and twin cabs
and and and...
An orange headed ant
bites my toe
and I let it.
I ask,
Why you are biting me?
It stops.
As the sun falls behind a tree
hits the glass table
shatters light into my eye
sprays warm on my face.
twenty eights yell
farewell
across a faded sky,
I talk to myself.
I am loving hating you, I say.
I want to drive us both
over the cliff,
off a bridge,
into a life taking tree.
How would you like that?
I smile.
It is hard
to determine
a response.
No one is here.
No one is there.
No one is there.
No one is anywhere.
