desert

I have to drive out to the desert every few weeks.  It’s necessary.  Wicked cactus and rocks the size of condominiums – that’s what the prescription calls for.  Stuck in the city too long, I turn to rubble.  I bite my nails down to the cuticles.  My hair falls out.  There’s no straight thinking in a city after fourteen days.  Day fifteen comes like a hatchet in the side of the head.  I wake up with violence and rashes on my brain.  Too long in suburbia and there’s no coffee strong enough to put a pep in my step.  I stomp around, aiming for heads.

The desert doesn’t want me.  It’s full of things with scales, and vultures, which might as well have scales too.  The sand is hostile.  It bathes in the sun, waiting to scorch the bottoms of feet.  But I need it.  I need the threat of dehydration.  The smell of death pushed along by the wind, garnished with bits of sand.  Undesirability puts things in perspective.

I know where I stand with the desert.  It’s an unhealthy relationship, black eyes and hurt feelings.  It’s the only place where you can go to spit and curse and threaten.  It won’t even take the time to echo a response.  It glares back in a way only acres and acres of vacant bedrock can glare.

You never make it in the desert.  Maybe that’s why I like it.  Certain death.  Non-negotiable.  No multiple choice.  Every step you take is one step closer to the pile of sun bleached bones which mark your end.  The coroner doesn’t even bother with the desert.

All I need is a few days at a time.  A few days of deep, dry breaths, aimed at no one.  Joy and pain, regret and pity.  Send it all out into the desert and watch it disappear.  Watch it wither and die.

The desert is a place for celebration.  It’s a place for grieving.  It’s a place for despair.  It offers no sympathy and expects nothing in return.  It’s a place where you can stare into the sun and laugh like a psychopath for hours.  It doesn’t flinch from insanity or depression or hangnails or winning lottery tickets.  It’s rocks and scorpions, but for some reason it’s a place that takes the weight off and soothes the stinging.

The rules don’t apply in the desert.  Actions and emotions have no correlation.  You can scream with jubilation or slow dance your heartache into a dusty mess.  Darkness is the only force strong enough to adjust the thermostat.  It brings the stars like a fist full of broken marbles.  All the wishes in the word can’t save you here.