blinds me, in Fort Worth.
To East Chase, on a bicycle,
shouts from pick-up trucks,
like, "lady, don't die."
The grass sounds and scents
the journey, and I stop half way.
I stand, aware of the movements,
and make sure to stay away
from the vegetation's inhabitants.
In the house, I don't realise
that cats and air-con
live hermetically-sealed lives,
and will be long gone
if an opening is even implied.
