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29 May 2010 @ 05:32 pm
Someone Send A Runner  
Today in the Idaho desert, the dark sky slides fast down the mountains. Ominous, it is inky as the raw grey crude bleeding upward from the ocean sands in the Gulf. It spills like some advancing army into the sunlight across this flat expanse. An icy rain at the edge of the shadow consumes the soft morning light that had promised an afternoon warmth ahead. When it reaches my toes, its darkness sinks into the meat of my chest.

I am cold in this kitchen, and it occurs to me that it's been nearly a decade since I felt suited to this kind of desert solitude. Of course, the monsoons were sweeter and warmer off the Jemez than these bitter storms off of the Rockies. That desert came to me through wilder eyes than I look through now, and the imperfections of isolation at least offered a compelling novelty in my youth. No doubt, too, the responsibility for my mood was more obviously my own then, and I dared not neglect it as I do now.

Location: Idaho Falls, ID
Music: the national