Ordinance
Crushed into a dead zone
Just out of frame
Worn faces collect around archaic taps
Gaunt, starved of signal
The price of contact extortionate
A thing guarded by glass and derision

A heron wades among creek rocks
A man cross-legged, under an overpass
Shirtless, sunburnt shoulders
The bird takes flight
While the man hangs his head
Like a weight at the end of a rope

Sodium lights give a plastic pallor
To the few stubborn wisps of flora
And the same orange minute
Turns over and over

There are pauses between the sounds of trucks downshifting
And looping recorded advertisements
To hear the pure, free movement of the creek water
Eroding a path towards the sea