Granted

Three rabbits practice running
from nothing at golden hour
between warehouses and train tracks
barely listening.

A crane stands in the shallow
sandy tide looking for fish
taking the horizon for granted
the same way I do this gray
tuna in its bloody can.

A figure in the distance
vanishes into their past
after making late night deals
with owls on the windowsill,
trading ground turkey
for a chance to use
their magic.

All that remains,
just a pile of sweaty clothes
shriveled in the sun
out on the sidewalk
by a shopping cart
knocked over
on its side.

Now thirty years ago,
a girl wearing nothing
but dust drinks cold water
from a glass so clean
it seems invisible
until her damp lips mark
the rim and it appears again.