you & i pulse.

On the drive to New Mexico we stopped at a fortune teller. She had a stand on the side of the road and for 5 dollars you could have your palm read. When I handed her the bill she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her tent. “You are going to drink here, die here, find heaven in the sands.” When we were planning our escape to the desert we tried to consider all things that could go wrong, but I never imagined it would feel this real, this burnt, I never thought I would feel this yellow. The sand sticks to the back of my knees and my breath is a rememberance of former nights, of tequila-licked kisses and black mexican cloves. My skin clings to the back seat, it’s been our only shelter for days now & for weeks we’ve been living in-and-out of paperbags and napsacks, eating ketchup packets and licking the peanut butter from the bottom of the jar. I still haven’t found what I came for. The Holy Ghost has yet to resurrect itself in my presence. I haven’t seen rain or death, just sun melting my eyes shut together.

Oh,
And the heat making funny waves in the air.