The room ticks like a cooling engine
In a blue motel on the edge of Apache.
A tranquil night of drunks and televisions.
Poly-neon signs and road closures.
Up the road apiece, just north of nowhere,
Past the graves of Grandma and Grandpop,
There’s a place that has no business being there,
A place of cisterns and honeycombs.
A wheel in the desert, the moon on some swings.
                               🌙
            September 02 2024