a kiss on thick tickled cactus skin (joshua trees are people too)
sometimes. i really miss the desert.
and other times, times like tonight,
when i flirt with the cute girls at the bar
and watch all the lonely and beautiful people
flash by on the subway,
i think to myself that
it wouldnt be such a bad thing
if the entire world shrank away
and dissolved into nothing at all,
so long as i could have her
to share it all with;
the plentiful or the nothing.
and together we would
pinpoint a stable center
where everything would
never matter.
there are so many beautiful people
and why do i only want her.
why have i always only
wanted her.
i know exactly why.
its because she has the power to sum
up all of life in a moment
merely by passing by.
but theres something deprivating
in that desire
that makes me wonder
if its not the most
unhealthy thing in my life.
like staring at the same
patch of starry sky,
knowing: this is
all that matters
and this is why.
still, theres a resevoir of love i have
to give,
all damned
and still, sitting inside of me,
ready to power the deserts
for the crazy people
who live like rats
in the cactus,
hiding out
with the grey brittle
roots
that crawl under
volcanic clay
rusted red like veins
from iron in open air.
and i know we all
burn love like money,
using it as a
currency of touch,
but i worry that
someone,
any old one,
might steal all i have saved up,
turning the well nest-
led within me
as dusty dry
as the desperate scratches
on the empty desert sky.