When I close
my eyes
I see the lights of Colorado Springs
and all of the hiding places
of my ghosts
in the desert.
In Omaha
along the highways of flat plains
I laid out my immeasurable gratitude
unseen to others
and quiet only to myself.
Sitting amongst the humming
insects
and faded lawn sculptures
of my hometown
I remember
the house by the roller mill
and the porch full of
conversation and burnt cigarettes.
Along the Pueblo towns
of New Mexico
I see monuments and scriptures
of a future
carved against the spines
of old love
and new testaments of freedom.
When I finally open my eyes
I am anywhere
but here.