Small Small World 




The Dark Theory 

Two miles out in the desert, an asphalt road cuts a highway. I ran the first mile. Tumbleweeds rolled in the dark. I ran in the dark, not knowing the other mile.

I turned in the dark, not knowing that I had returned. 

Then I realized that someone had run the other mile. 

Everybody

On the road, I know no one. No one walks to me. It is me thinking.
I am past everybody. 

Windbreak

I stopped stumping my feet and clutched the thin layer
of a windbreaker. The night is clear,
the skin not resistant.

Contour

I cough so I am.
When you cough, I want to speak.
Being tender is not my nature. 

Part Construction 

Still green, I squat and pick jalapeño peppers. 
Before long, I know my hands are no bigger than me. 
What eludes contemplation eludes being a part. 

Daikon

A herd boy points to a daikon. Someone asks the road. 
What is buried takes sometime to mine.