Requiem for a summer

The wind imitates Warumpi band songs and the concerns of anti nukes protesters. Blows hot and hard like the breaking of celibacy. Threatens to dump renegade wood in the yard.

The days turn like chained dogs. Snarling heat licks my heels. Pushes me back on my bike. I am uphill and panting, reminded of last seasons dry river bed crossings and nights alone with the stars.

I wear time like a costume change. So quickly rooted in these stone mountains. I am. Technology relays his memories and aspirations of salt licked landscapes. I am the salt on his skin as I speak of water and red dust. My souls are cracking and I reach for the salve.