Near a convenience store not close to any town the neon lights get out as far as that from time to time Hidden in the brambles She is glazed wet twigs sloping hot dark thin to the water's edge the question runs down her like another drop of acid She thinks the sky in fractal grey is mocking her thinness but she likes being twigs unobtrusively giving her all to the water, not by effort but by structure alone, so pure You'd never even notice her