Figs split open on the pavement baring sweet flesh and seeds. Girl in the sun.
All around me the birds construct theatre with their open-beaked shrills of excitement and their clucking laughter. Eyes watching.
I rest my head in the fading light and wait for the stars to appear. Click-click-click roots through the pavement.
Pale skin is—
changed. I am changed.
(Beware false equivalency.)
I am changed but I am still me. I am many me’s.
The stars streak by and by and by and by and I am not dizzy. I have stared a star in its face and walked away unharmed.
Girl in the sun still. Girl still in the sun. Still a girl in the sun. Am I perpetual or motionless?
Coo-ee! Coo-ee! say the birds. Hello! I say back. Who are you calling to?
Girl in the sun is not a girl anymore.