I do not know the desert, yet

the stories of rock, hot sand, and cacti

burn in my mind.

I’ve seen swiping photos of

the majesty that arises

early morning above the dunes:

shades of purple and pink

the Midwest simply isn’t acquainted to.

I wonder how my car would look:

snow tires traveling through dust

kicked up by her wheels.

I can imagine the crunch


of a turn off the main road;

the slow stop as I settle the brake

and pull a lawn chair out with me.

A creak and a snap

opening vinyl and metal to sit

sinking into an awe I’ve only seen

in rolling credits

of a film.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: