Dalinian vertebra in the sand.
Bra tangled in some vertebrae. Ants in the
sand. Ands running up and down over some skeletal hands in the rusty
sands. Rusty Sands stands over the hands and the vertebra and plucks up
the bra with her exquisite long fingers, fingers like forceps. "They've
been here," she says, squinting into the sun.
She's been tracking a pair
of renegade breasts across the sub-Sahara.
Here in the Moroccan dune sea, she thought she had them cornered, but the
wily mammaries spit milk in the eyes of the captors, and bounced away.