914 W Summit

 914 W Summit

I see her photos of saguaros dotting canyons 

and I can barely contain my jealousy

remembering the dusty dirt

and no shade

and trails of tarantulas that we 

tiptoed 

through to get to the mesa top – wait.
I’m conflating places but it’s 

the feeling of 

heat on our shoulders and age spots developing, 

crossing cattle guards,

looping back to a part of myself

that didn’t know anyone was looking for it.

It might as well have been

witness protection.

No clue where I was or when I would 

be back and not having a phone on me 

and being ecstatic 

to figure it out on the fly.

Now it’s real feel 4. 

And the pavement is white from either ice

or preventative salt

and we snip at each other

over complaining and then complain

about snipping and our shoulders are up

around our ears.