dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Monday, August 15, 2016

going home

Today we're going home to Las Vegas. At the moment we're getting gas in Baker. It's hot like an oven. 

Going home is...not like a mother's warm embrace. Not like a slap in the face either. Going home is like...slipping on a banana peel?  Slipping back into place?  

Going home is like a bumpy landing at the end of a bumpy airplane ride--one more source of anxiety but at least the ride is over. 


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