in a city where the roads are all highways, i. i wander across the space between i wander through long and short grasses surrounding me, with wavy streaks black and silver and red flicks attempting to ford pavement, i lurk trucks with toothy grills float by bumping into one another and grimacing slow but not slowing, i identify a space between the space between i gulp and squeeze through a perhaps dodge and perhaps chevy i cross over leaving only bloody footprints ii. over the crest of that on-ramp houses canary and lima bean panes like dry sockets, surrounded by concrete barriers expecting projectiles next to them, red and white landfill land filled excess with skeletal refuse factual skeletal refuse, every animal that has ever held a skeleton is held here iii. a sense i never use grips my face drinks me like blood from a faucet sticks its tongues into my nose unbelievably i do not retch. i turn in another direction, desertification of once forest or delta or swamp produces endless wastes of carcasses ribcage and skull and femur and knuckle not quite picked clean, scraps of flesh adorn them like ribbons, like price tags and as i approach these dunes i see a zebra. it pretends not to notice brushing its nose and mouth over bone and gristle, gnawing at twitching muscle, leftover organ, gnawing even on fur i drift closer, a ghost haunted. it too is skeletal, ragged, gaunt, bloodstained alert to me as i am alert to it binary stars orbiting one another now i am near bone and it is near pavement. iv. following curious will-o'-wisp linking us we step in parallel toward pastures gray we step under shade of bones which tile sky we step until the city evaporates we step until the world runs out we step until there is nothing to pick apart