I wanna dance 

With a cowboy like you.

Empty dim dance floor,

Dust in the air,

A few tables with sleepy customers.

My arms around your neck,

The brims of our hats touching each other.

On the tip of my toes,

My chest pressed against yours.

Slow kisses under your mustache.

The warm darkness of the room, wrapped around you and I.

The Blue Of Summer

Last night we slept in the back of my truck.

Mattress thrown in there, a wool blanket and our two sleeping bags.

The wind was violently blowing across the desert,

Shaking us in our attempt to fall asleep.

We talked into the late hours of the night,

While our dog slept in the cab.

We felt so small in this vast landscape.

Clear sky and brilliant stars,

All the little creatures must have been hiding under heavy rocks.

We waited for sleep; eyes open in the dark,

And fell asleep before the blush sunrise washed over us.

Please hold my head in your hands.

    We drove to the confines of earth yesterday. The sun kept getting lower and we wondered if we’d make it back in time. Parched desert scattered with creosote bushes, small sticky leaves on jagged branches. If only it could have rained for a few minutes for the plant to release the distinct sweet and smoky smell of this corner of the world.


Faded blue and pink small houses scattered along the road, abandoned in the bleached gold valley. Sedentary signs in a place where sun and wind rule the days. Who does one have to be to live here? Nothing around for miles and miles, just the one road split by the long yellow line shooting into the horizon. 


The cracked asphalt turns into a curve and we climb. At the top of the mountain, my eyes bloom open like cactus flowers after a rainstorm, petals for lashes, soaking in the light piercing the clouds. My lungs fill with blue on the edge of earth. Infinite sand, purple and saffron mountains, in the shape of the landscape that inhabits me. Veins of rocks running along soft expanses.


As the blood orange sun lowered, we turned around and drove back before dark. 


I keep wondering what is out there, beyond those mountains.

The blue of dawn in the fields

Last star in the pale sky

Night heavy on my back

Cold breeze on my cheeks

Purple grass moves in waves

Like a silk sheet in the wind

The crest of the mountains slowly turns coral

Hopeful sunrise

Still shaking off the darkness full of dreams

My heart is blue and I don’t know why

I drove from the desert to the ocean, coming from lost places back to you. I left as the crescent moon was perched above the gas station where I was the only soul filling my tank in the dark of the night, and drove until the sun rose in my rearview mirror, warming the back of my neck. I left the hum of the wide ochre landscapes behind and went back to the light blue of morning over mirrored waters, and the feel of your warm embrace. I have driven this road that circles my heart, mile after mile, the movement of this story between places. 

The night was cold, but the wind was soft. We slept in our sleeping bags, all dressed, too tired to change. Huddled against each other in our friend’s trailer, lying on a small foam mattress covered with a faded pink floral pattern. No electricity or water, just a place to sleep and rest. 


Half moon and stars above us, and the silence of the desert all around.


I woke up to the first light of day before the sunrise crept through the small window at our feet, like a big postcard hanging on the wall. All the colors washed Flamingo Heights with a soft coat of pastel pink. That short and quiet moment in the day when all is covered in dew, and we can see our breaths in front of our faces. Not a sound.


I think of Steinbeck and his travels with Charley, and imagine myself on the road with this trailer, full of books, notebooks, cameras, a coffee pot, a couple of good mugs and our dog.


These are the mornings I want to wake up to next to you.

    Long summer days, late nights. Cool blades of grass on warm ground full of sunshine. Smooth green ribbons tickle my neck, arms and back of my hands, palms up open to the sky; I run my feet through the velvet field. The earth under me, soft and heavy, supports my whole body from head to toes, while it spins to show the starry spectacle above. The dome of the sky is framed by the dark silhouette of the trees around the meadow. A sudden long iridescent shooting star travels all the way accross, over my short little life.


This sensual season is endless and yet I mourn its pending end too early. That same feeling as a kid when I felt September and its school desks looming. Splendor slipping into dullness. From peaches to pears, from naps under trees to snuggles under blankets, from swimsuits and denim shorts to warm socks on cold toes. 


A strange feeling of both gratitude and fear rises in my stomach. You just turned another page on a decade while I just wanted to stop clocking in the years, and I’m still looking for answers we both don’t have. 


A warm fire in the middle of the night, burns laughter, breath and tears.

Eight hundred thirty-nine miles from Los Angeles. 

My heart gently cracks open under the big blue sky. 

I want to be here for a while, 

With the birds, the big purple mountains and the sun on my feet. 

Hide in the shade, pray in the sun.