Facing the Desert
Her hair was a dust devil,
matching her eyes when
she left
Arizona. I saw the dust once before,
the wind sending it in circles
to chase its tail like a dog
across the I-10. Coming home
from Tucson
I want to spit on the yellow grass
until she comes back.
(The smell of rain is a cousins wedding
that I go to yearly only to remember
they still exist.)
The rain died
her hair darker,
black
as the dust grew red.
The streetlights blur
and I trace her cheekbone along the light poles
that disappear
as the rain gets heavier.
The water hides in cacti,
we cant remember
a lovers lips.
Shes in California,
where the grass is made green
and the beach keeps everything wet.
Facing the Desert...by #Le-Visage
'Facing the Desert' by =Drunken-Splice
Thank you...