i recognize that i still have not really moved on
to whatever next phase in life i am supposed to be in.
for all intents and purposes,
i am just as much the me that i was months ago.
but with each library book checked out,
with each coffee i drink
and funny texts to/from linda
and fanduels with sean
and maybe even glimpses of possibilities,
i bring back a piece of my heart
that i let loose and deemed nonreturnable.
i find it hard to say for sure what i want,
mostly because i do have a hard time realizing
what it is that i want unless it is right in front of me.
but i sure love the desert as it gets close to winter.
i love how dark it gets so early on in the evening,
and all the palm trees leading to my home
lit up for the night to either:
a. guide santa through the maze of country clubs, or
b. keep the geriatrics from running over the dividers.
something about the coldness brings out
so much of my past around here.
the feeling of going to school in the morning;
playing outside at a band gig
even though it is certifiably cold,
just because a bunch of moneybags told you to;
going off somewhere for a family vacation,
totally hating my life at the time
but looking over those trips with longing later on,
because my current self begrudgingly wishes
for more time as my innocent self.
maybe the mountains are too beautiful
when the clouds decide to blanket them.
i can never help but stare at them,
especially early in the morning
(which happens not often)
when each hill and peak
has its own cloud-companion to stroke them,
whispering and coaxing them to forgo
their usual formalities of purple
and try on the obsessive beauty of orange and yellow,
daring them to take on the world as
ridges of the land i love far brighter
than they had the courage to be on their own.
i love the feeling of sinking into my bed during the afternoon,
letting myself get warmer and warmer
while i squeeze together every memory
of the breaks i used to have here at home.
but now, knowing i have no real where to get back to,
it is, as everything is, different.
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