Desert Days
Even now the crows
have chased away
the lemon yellow butterflies
Even now glasses
have been scattered
down the desert
Even now a road trip
on a small island
is not as Fiona-free
as before anymore
The radio goes on
Volcanic black rests
at her feet
Trash gets carried away
The rabbit hunters shall
arrive this Sunday
This is the wind
that makes her think straight
This is the day
to choose your roads carefully
Her father warned her
to always be on time
speed up, my little mate
and so the girl glides from the dunes' hollows
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