it seems harder each morning to get up off the ground the sun, of course, makes me lighter, dries the damp feelings a nice moment with another person gives buoyancy and lift what seems critical though is to reduce ballast dump the mental loads, the luggage of worries, the heavy dirt-sack futures I want to start each day cheerful, don’t you? I’ve no need to fly, the weightlessness of a bubble is enough and there’s no need to be somewhere just floating up and anyw

here in the desert we rarely win the spin for the lotto of rain so when it happens it must feel like winning the lottery to frogs napping on parched porches and cracked living rooms ecstatic from fresh fortune, to dance and celebrate among the diamond raindrops all I know is it hurts my ears to walk the creek at dusk

I know where the rat’s nest mosquito’s hangout and crickets convene there’s s house that smokes pot and one with trees called smoke dying yards of dead cactus and hidden ones beyond tall muscular walls, and through cracks and on tiptoes, I see empty pools - big animal traps minus spikes and those with floaties lounge chairs and towels poised for liquid blue fun neighbors are the best part, saved last, like dessert cakes and ice cream cookies, pies and puddings w