control-test horns sound from a lonely tower above the electrical department, and the camera pans smoothly 180 degrees to where the houses used to be.
nothing here now but a yawning black crater.
we used to walk in groups, shuffling about. rural vampire idyll. and horrible splinters of bone jutting out of ragged, fleshy limbs w/ car alarms, barking dogs, dripping taps and a nuclear sunset.
now the sun is lower and there's just two of us, you and i - and as the pavement gives way to rubble which gives way to sand, i'm thinking we made the wrong choice to leave.
further and further out into the desert, the sand gives way to milky white ash.
geometric collaged palm trees face the same way wherever you look. striped orange deckchairs and a table, but that's been knocked over.
a cliff edge ahead meets the sea, which in turn meets the horizon (a singular spectral line of perfect white light).
if we turn back, there will only be a forest, that town, and your parents.
we're probably lost now.
we can't look back; too many vast landscapes beneath the night sky: black streams navigating through prehistoric ferns; where sulphur-yellow aggregates of minerals glisten on the surface of a forgotten asteroid buried deep in ancient pine.
out here, we talk to the basilisks--they tell us to climb down to the sea--so we must make our descent. scree giving way under dirty sneakers.
we can return those library books later, look at the island!
do you think we'll be able to make it