Anna Couani #15 grass

the grass pulses
with yellow heat
and twilight
has begun

the residue of sunset
hangs there
in the west
lights are now visible

some darkly mysterious
building
stands by the main road
blankly without signage

there’s a photo
of white-skinned people
in a newspaper
lying on a bench

we wait for what seems
like hours
to see the sky turn dark
to spot the few city stars