Cityscapes

Her bones are hard and cold, her body it seems is built to journey.

These streets are empty in a storm like this, nobody walks anymore. It’s been raining for twenty days.

City purlieus fill with lightning and thunder’s moving south. Great clouds begin to wander above. The girl listens as the storm gathers up around her. The deeper she cuts through the city the straighter she walks, her skeleton transforms.

The girl crosses onto Spring Garden and here the street is full. All manner of class are about, rich and gaudy, the freakish, the sensual. Lost and scared and civil alike mingle in the nooks. She walks through plumes of smoke and smells burnt coffee, grease, body spray. She weaves the crowds, her eyes down, and crosses at McDonalds. Inside a man twice her size waddles to claim a plastic seat. His tray is a decoration of orders.

It’s Saturday night.

Next door sits a shitty bar, two sandy palm trees decorate the door. This is the Oasis, another sandcastle along this haunted beach, this one a sports bar. The girl stops and

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