i.

We told Blondie we’d see her
next time we came back,

red rock dreaming
before we even left,

but maybe masked
by rueing

her cooking–
lead-bellied

all the way
to Vegas.

 

ii.

Muted, it presented
a different face,

not dry, or running
full and sudden,

I didn’t know
what to expect–

one of the key
precursors

for loving.

 

iii.

Loss, too.
Leaving

gets under
your skin

more than
anything–

I picked red clay
from my clothes

for days after,
fractions of

the weight
of the place,

slivers of
what it meant.