Take this trip with me.
A road,
yellow
lines, black
asphalt racing towards the mountains.
Fifty, sixty miles an hour.
You say something about the shape of my head,
or my shirt, and I’m breathing this air.
In the distance goes,
fox, cactus, rabbit.
In about the span of three seconds we see it all.
Fox chases rabbit, around, three, four, five times.
Our head lights brighten the dessert grounds, sand, time, and bone.
We pass, and rabbit is gone, fox befuddled, lost in grit.
And sitting there the whole time,
belly now full,
is owl.
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