We cross a narrow train track, onto a turning bay
for the bus. The earth is white and dusty, streams of water
stretching our steps.
We pass a dog, dead,
on its side, stiff and thick with fur.
It was not here yesterday.
The train passes a few times a day,
on to Bansko
then back to Septemvri.
We have seen goats on the tracks,
and wild horses. We sit on the old seats,
covered in dust.
No one cleans this area.
You tell me you saw a boy on a cart
hit his horse with a plank of wood,
to make it go fast.
We talk about pesticides on food,
and animal tests;
how hardly any of your friends want to know.
The bus arrives, old with no air-conditioning,
but it is cheap.
It is hot inside; the windows don’t open.
I say dobre den to the conductor,
take two blue tickets.
We take our laundry into Velingrad.
The bus drives over cobblestones.
Maybe a train hit the dog,
its body not far from the tracks.
Musical composition by Victor D. Sandiego