Sonoran Son, A Poem

The palm trees sign peace signs to my soul
While the dirt, the brown speckled with green
Reminds me all things stay dead.
If the desert were a home
I’d call the sky the floor and the dirt, the sky.
Or at least that’s the way I’ve seen it
I spent more time with my head down
kicking sand and bumping bands
That I was to lame to see live.
I was a music man but my only instrument broke
When self-doubt crept in through the unwelded cracks
And became the new seams.
The desert reminds me of purgatory
Not because of the constant site of brown barren trees
But the summer nights
Where the temperature could drop to exactly the temperature
When your body couldn’t tell if it was too hot, or too cold.
The desert holds the key to my youth
And in turn my soul has become a mirror
That reflects ever-forward the very traits I see in it.

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