Dusk dissected by two lines of halogen high-beams
The forecourt in the distance.
Reptile musk, petrochemical pheromones.
The distilled essence of long lost inhabitants
attracts the new ones to the watering hole.
Cars, trucks... a coach from somewhere in Europe.
Behind the well-lit concrete structures
the beams illuminate the scene.
Two men, inexpertly naked, trace circles in the dusty
gravel of the service station car park.
They shift on their fingertips and on the balls of their feet.
Teeth bared. Scraping grit and grazed knees.
Their all day everyday skins shed in a pile by the wheel arch.
White shirt, burgundy knitted tie.
Long shadows cast a distinct display of dominance.
This is territory.
The smell of dry earth, petrol and blood.
Two hundred meters away, a Burger King.