From the NORTH to escape the icy cold to claim the desert southwest as their winter home, the sunny place where no one bothers to shovel sunshine in the winter.
©Just A Place To Sleep
I’m hiding down here
in the vacation trenches
trying to latch onto
a piece of higher ground
(ground without the prickly,
wound-causing cacti)
and those larger avocados;
eating salted genealogy
while bits and pieces
of time slip by;
grabbing the rope of hope
immersed in chaos—it's like
a Dostoyevsky passage,
or paint on a canvas
about life in a
retiring trailer park
by surrealist Ernst,
or a magic wand
carved from wood of holly
(hooray for Hollywood);
I continue to contemplate
the possibility of
one more taco
with jalapeño sauce
and maybe one more
glass of sangria.
Mimi Wolske
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