warm desert

The Smashing Pumpkins were playing and we rolled in the warm dreamy desert. The music was so slow and flooded the air. I waved my arm with the music - stars disappeared behind its shape. Palm open and cigarettes flying out of pockets and into mouths, rich warm tobacco... I hold it deep in my lungs and exhale it through both nose and mouth. Its swirling in me, making me roll deeper into the desert sand.

The desert is dark and faces are highlighted only by the glowing unreal moon. Its looks at me like my parents looked at me. In the desert: shower heads stick out near joshua trees and underneath they pour perfect temperatured water. You can feel great underneath them and still smoke by keeping your arm out away from the water and leaning out for inhales.

I need. I need. I need - I think and know and sway under the water.

Yes... my hair never feels better then when its half wet.

Listening to yourself sing...

Realizations and half dreams rise like fog and I inhale them with each breath - so would you. Its unavoidable. The water pressure drops and it becomes colder. I notice that The Smashing Pumpkins have stopped playing and the sound of a wind is becoming louder. I only hear the wind and the running water.

Naked I step out of the cooling water and into the night air. We shiver and stumble across the desert and go back to struggling to dig pittances up from the dry riverbeds with our fingers. Empty stomachs sucking at ribs. Dreams of swaying, still.