Every Now And Then, She Patrols...

Every now and then
she snatches her desert out of her purse
she unfolds it in front of her
and takes a long walk
- she calls it her 'occasional patrol' -
whistling marching songs
driving off intruders.

With the job complete
and all the sand's dry kisses
hanging from her lips
she turns around and registers the traces of the route
carefully folding it back
burying it deep in the farthest corner of the bag.

Content she's back at square one
raises her glass
lights a cig
spits out smoke, phlegm and sand...