Here the streets blur in the dust. Cars rot in my neighbour's yard. I see it all. There is only chicken wire between us.
He is young and already divorced, I have been told there is a child also. He is new to the mines. We are both new to the desert. He cuts down trees then waters his rooftop to stave off the sun. At night I hear his beer cans fall from his outdoor table. They rustle in the dark beside my new planted saplings which are already burnt despite my attention. Our airconditioners groan, worn out, asked too many times to allow us to sleep softly while they murder the heat.
but from the dead this heat always rises
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