Summer in the desert in Pomes and Epigrams

This street.
This town.
An edge of the desert
in one corner of America.
This state.
This country,
on the westernmost edge
of this world.

I live here. I exist
amongst alien hibiscus
and lawns.
Asphalt between my toes, it sings
a sizzling reminder of summer.

Now is the hot calm. It exists
while populations come indoors,
creating fake winter in protest.

Seaborne wind comes
within the hour, as if god took pity
on us all. He blows away the sizzle like
we were his birthday cake.
And we’ll bask in the smouldering dusk.

For now, I smile.
My feet blackening.
Because I know.
I know
how I can stand on the edge of the world
in this reviled desert
on my street
and smile.

(c2001)