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