saw-grass

Among the flowered dirt roads, the blissful wrecks, the broken windshields and metallic tunnels, miles of wire and copper cables. A sandy dashboard fissure, tablets for a headache, gray skin clouds on an operating table. Distraught coins on the floorboard, blemished gasoline and camouflaged mantis, they look like they are still praying to God, bad posture, bent and dead.

The sodden mulch gardens bloated from the petroleum-rain, the untroubled engine cows, straying, nameless orchids in a black ballet of pallid art. Wet bark chips and cedar shavings, the headlight-lizards shrink from the sight of everyone. Splintered limbs and door-frames lay like barbaric amputations, the bitter-ink trees and taciturn pasture, a skeletal farmer building a fence, wooden heart in a bucket, liquor-holes in the gut.