A near relation of night. No blooding for the city fox. Anointed in oil.

Yesterday my wounds were bound, soaked in wine and oil.
The wine was red, now I am blue, the binds have come undone.

There are fireworks out the window. There are trees too, chicken shops, chalk cliffs, heathland, moors, smugglers caves, a buried heart, tin mines, the ocean, big empty spaces, blue mountains, the coal scar, fields of sunflowers, ghost towns, desert, asphalt, plankton, then a party. One person leaves, then another arrives. Sometimes there's an overlap. The landlady gets angry. One goes to sleep and the other awakes. One is thinking of the fox with the light behind his eyes, and the oil on her head. The other thinks of dinner, and the right amount to load onto the fork.

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