What Even Happened In The Desert Today?

Simultaneous restraint and lust for life?

They say, or Joan Didion said, “California is for pleasure zealots.” That’s where you were born. I am in Arizona now, where I was born and I wonder if the desert is for those fueled by pain. My dirty blush pink coat burning black, finally the absence of color it was perhaps always meant to be.

Burn it all down hot as petroleum.

I had to stand to recover, gripping the desk, as if I had been taken by a wave.

I hold the rock from the integratron send send love to its discoverer. Out to scout the next great life for himself, surely to be ruined by whining.

“Why won’t you come along?”

“Because I have to take care of myself. You don’t take care of me, and haven’t for a long time.”

I leave as I always do with the shadowing feeling that I have done something wrong. Rendered replusive by this feeling that better looks like something else. How do we know mediocrity is meaningful with no gauge to reflect on that?

Brutalized by my own desires, I am not ready to be a role model.

Model denotes display only. A showcase of something too perfect or imperfect to glance at or elaborate upon. Wouldn’t want to get that way. Better to hit the streets, get a haircut, buy some books, second looks. Get active. No pleasing.

What do your eyes want from me? What is enough for you?

The people who matter most are the ones you love so much you can fall asleep on them. We will stop cutting you down like a cacti to look inside for the water rise if you’d just stop running from yourself. It is moving. Just a trickle.

Run to whoever you can be vulnerable with like a coyote to an oasis.

(Oasis as love.)

Come together, spread out. There is plenty, whether you hate half of me or not, no matter the reason. Hate is no more than a mood ring pigment for your memory of loss. I will not let you stay trapped in the mirage, when our oasis is evolving.

No regrets Coyote.