Zipper on wheels, trundled millipede, under tile, framed in right angles, jumping in the flat space of an unfolded map. Carthaginian hospitality settles the dust of seven numbers, bent along bicycle handlebars. The grass chews up the dirt, up into seed and serrated edge to cut paper. Splintered wall surfaces from the pencils held, dove-tailed to a compass, and shaved to a dime. The tiny wheels rattle in the silent spire.