2:00. Sun.

The gravel goes far between the lawns
of sun bleached grass
Now dead ’cause god has left us thirsty

The sun beats hard
My cheeks are flush
My blue eyes burn from sweat

The bus doesn’t go to my house
It stops a mile away

And so I walk
Down this dusty street
Kicking stones
And calling myself Bregitta

The hills are not alive
But I sing to myself
Silence makes me nervous

Alone, the bird chirps sounding human
I feel watched
From the eyes of burnt down barns

Mama called it arsen
The boy with the box of matches
Who used to live next door

But I must admit
The flames excite me too

I would have watched it with him
And thrown my flowers in