­­Last night we slept in the back of my truck.

Mattress thrown in there, a wool blanket and our two sleeping bags.

The wind was violently blowing across the desert,

Shaking us in our attempt to fall asleep.

We talked into the late hours of the night,

While our dog slept in the cab.

We felt so small in this vast landscape.

Clear sky and brilliant stars,

All the little creatures must have been hiding under heavy rocks.

We waited for sleep, eyes open in the dark,

And fell asleep before the blush sunrise washed over us.

I drove from the desert to the ocean, coming from lost places back to you.

I left as the crescent moon was perched above the gas station where I was the

only soul filling my tank in the dark of the night, and drove until the sun

rose in my rearview mirror, warming the back of my neck. I left the hum of

the wide ochre landscapes behind and went back to the light blue of morning

over mirrored waters, and the feel of your warm embrace. I have driven this

road that circles my heart, mile after mile, the movement of this story

between places.

Please hold my head in your hands.

I wanna dance

With a cowboy like you.

Empty dim dance floor,

Dust in the air,

A few tables with sleepy customers.

My arms around your neck,

The brims of our hats touching each other.

On the tip of my toes,

My chest pressed against yours.

Slow kisses under your mustache.

The warm darkness of the room, wrapped around you and I.

Talk to me, tell me about the intoxicating smell of blossoming orange groves at the foot of the glowing gold mountains. I need dirt in my shoes. Blinding

sun and found rivers. The leathery face of locals at the bar in the middle of a valley of wonders. Dry hot air coming through the frame of the car window.

Daydreams blending with passing images, layers peeling off like clothing ripped off by the wind from the drying line, ascending into the blue sky.