it’s all fiction my friend (wife).
written with imagination (right
brain). escape from daily (life).
writing these worries away.

there’s a cleansing in it. like
saying ‘i miss you’ tears begin
to drip. false (hope, no) sin.
all seven yellow journals

with endless writings of mine
are now burnt. the smoke forced
a smile on my face out there
in the chapped, cracked land.

one exit south of Zzyzx Road
(I-15) there sits the ashes of
the ceremony. in the vast…
a match to the interior

pages stacked like a teepee.
the wind picked up. so a good
piss was necessary down by
the sewer drain. witnessed

by truckers. the green book
too. so beautiful. the deepest
darkest secrets that cannot be
replaced. didn’t get burned

because the wind was too
strong. so i threw it in the desert
dried tree (bush) dangling
like a leaf.

just as cleansing as writing.
was leaving. driving
off into freedom.
i know you don’t approve.

that’s why you don’t know
what i’m proving.
vulnerability. rests on the
cusp of my rainforest/

ocean/evergreen/desert
personality. i’ll be fine
because four is always
the equation for hope.

no, no. switch. quick.
fast like the hand
catching the falling
contact lens.

testing. understanding.
satisfaction like the glass
of milk from the freezer
after your last bight

of buttered starch. i got
some things i wanna
tell you. let’s start
where we left off.

come on. we only have
four years left. till my death.
when we separate late
in two-thousand twelve (12-23).

remember
that i’ve always
been here (unfailing)
in reality.