MARS.

Bonneville Salt Flats,

30,000 acres of Mars near the Border.

Cherries & berries 

twirl across our rear view mirror

Kelsey shakes her head and sighs 

at yet another red handed window visit.

I grab the sheriff's wrist

in hopes he won't reach for the lead foot warrant 

out for my arrest.

dishonest compliments stumble from my mouth,

followed by more lip sweat

&

 a tip of the hat

"carry on"

upon entering, 

I was assured a UFO would hit us dead smack

in the middle of both our brows

we sit silently,

our thoughts understood by one another

We crave flames to keep warm 

 but more-so to cast shadows on the land 
so we don't feel so alone.

NIGHT COMES QUICK

MORNING COMES QUAKE

The salt crust trembles beneath us 

shaking our eyes awake, 

to trace the trail of black smoke 

that exits the rockets above us. 

PENNSYLVANIA.

-784 miles in, 352 to go-

Indiana gas stations are a drag, 

but the cigarettes are cheap...

so is the meth apparently.

(Ohio turn pikes are rude & expensive) 

But Pennsylvania...

is covered in moss, 

more comfortable than my queen back home. 

We ditched our car for a bit, 

like the leaves decided to ditch the trees into the river.

-See you at 4am Iceland-

PEWS N' PRAIRIES.

BEFORE WE LEFT THE BADLANDS;

We stopped for an early service at former "store" bar" now church.

Wranglers & their wives slowly filled the pews while  

I watched Tessa hang up casual conversation with christians; the boys hung their cowboy hats on curtain rods.

 

I watched her mind drift to places we would soon visit;

I was fortunate enough to steal her angst that morning along with the occasional prayer.

--

her head found its place on my inner arm as we closed our eyes &  prayed the rain away with the others.

she lead me through forests to lakes & caves, 

singing along to the out-o-tune strum of my thrifted guitar, 

I bought a few towns over.

My mind followed the echo of her voice to places we would soon visit...

We stumbled upon wild donkeys. 

We ran with them from one prairie to the next

 

"It went unsaid, 

but I could hear our thoughts..

wishing we were as wild as they were." 

WRITERS BLOCK.

I wish I had words for these photographs,

but I do not. 

My hands were numb.

my socks wet from the waves.

-6°F(uck)

 writer's block/block of ice.

..till the sun comes..

TWIGS.

Maybe the beauty of abandonment, 

 is temporarily being able to fill something.

we shared the sunset, 

in bedrooms they use to fuck in. 

Dirty Nostaliga.

the sky was colored n' shaped like cotton candy...

leaving our imaginations to starve.

once again starving, for what isn't anymore.

full of the temporary bullshit.