Arizona made me quiet.
Arizona made me see.
For every flower wilting
there's
the ghost path of a
creek.

Arizona made me cautious.
Arizona made me choose.
Do I prefer a coy, dry heat
or the temptation called monsoon?

Arizona made me hard.
Arizona made me fast.
The sun is not my friend,
  he lives to laugh behind my back.

The red clay dirt sticks to me
in the
luxury of white
sheets
and now I know if I
move
a rock
scorpions
breed underneath