Salt

Leave me in a place where no one leaves. I will watch the dirt unravel from tires scarlet twine desperate when all is gone. The sun will turn this back to bark but I will still wage forward mountains on either side. With white eyes I see a body of water in the shape of a scallop shell. I fall drinking until my tongue dries. Who is this cured man? Why is he atop a salt grove dirty in uniform? I have placed him beneath canary cloth. Is this bus in Somalia or Ethiopia? Is this life over? They find my watch in a market where calves' heads are sold for three hundred francs but no one will find me.