In the afternoons, a girl and a woman together
below a crepe of pecan trees / corniced rises, the city like a box
of mud around them / seething concrete
a fillip for turning / the pleasure of the crowds.
Then you could see more of the sky. / Wind from the west smells of desert
from east, woodlands.
They crush the carapacial rounds / dislodge oily meat bitter with shell.
They have dogs at home / and know to be careful
how not to look, at black garbage bags / left baking in the sun
at the side of the highway.