i drove to the desert,
80 mph to find inspiration.
i parked the tundra in desperation
and walked toward the bench
where solitude sat and waited.
i thought—
i've always been a desert.
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i drove to the desert,
80 mph to find inspiration.
i parked the tundra in desperation
and walked toward the bench
where solitude sat and waited.
i thought—
i've always been a desert.

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I keep going back—
searching for the girl
who died at eighteen.
I try to rewire the brain,
disentomb her.
Dig deeper.
I keep coming back
to the same yard,
the same tomb,
the same chained casket.