a black bird flew across her heart
and the wind dry and hot like a shirocco
lay her on the ground forcing her to think
how from that perspective
all seems so large
people mainly consist of legs
and smelly feet threatening to step on her
over
and clean feet staring around her
touching her almost as if to comfort
and hands reaching down to lift her
and make her remember her name
she wanted to forget
and her numb mouth forming letters of sand
as she chuckles up the reminders of the storm
and sitting for long hours
all seems so slow
bodies nearing and drifting off
distances that can never be measured with exactness
she learnt that approximation was the best thing
and she walked out in the sun
as if nearing to the point before the black bird
pretending to know what was approaching:
seen at the distance...drawing closer, unable to resist her call
any more.
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