the desert

flesh and bone

she left on her bicycle, towards the mountains and the sea northward, away from the desert and the endless miles of red dirt. she left them in their tents, in the shade, waiting for dark. they cautioned her and she did not listen. sweat dripped down her forehead but she did not listen. later, in the jungle, in the lush green jungle, to the sound of macaws trading secrets, she looked up and tried to find the sun.

and a cloud moved in, and rained down, and she actually wished for an umbrella. she actually gave up and was soaking wet and at this point everything will start to mildew, turn black with little dots of mold reaching up and over and around on top of the bed covers, into the bags, through the clothes she washed by soaking in an old bucket overnight. mysteriously, water cures dampness and the heat relaxed her muscles and the chill left her bones.

the chill of the desert at night, the stars forever, the moon shadow of one large cactus blocking her way. the strange alien landscape, the trees with no leaves, the unmeasurable distance between rock, the sand, the desperation.