Coachella

Coachella


I sink my feet into the sand of my home
grains rubbing against my surgery scar
and my ankles are always the part that starts sweating first

Growing up in a desert gives one a peculiar view of life

As children we would run wildly through the scrub
soles hardened to the searing heat and stickers
catching things that could kill us and wondering why Mother panicked

I've held things delicate and deadly with these fingers

Half the animals were endangered
The other half were simply dangerous
and we were made equal with them under the wild washlight sun

The dunes went on forever;
I was too small to see the mountains

Years later I remember sitting on the street outside a bar in New Orleans
newfound friends asking me how I can stand
wearing full length jeans in one hundred degree weather

When I tell them that the water droplets in the air coming off the Gulf
feel stranger to me than the heat
they give me odd looks and move away

How do you explain the Mojave to someone from New Jersey?