In my gauzy temple
errors poleaxed to the dead wind
a torn set of ribs
and a worn voice
thrashing the fan
the spill of soil on ancient tile
somewhere above.

Glinting pedals past
the stalled trucks
blade scratching a white road
bitches line the guardrail
cheering this last whisper
of a bright red headed pimp ass
thatched into the old brickwork
a thousand grains of sand screaming.