flying kites in the desert

Flying a Kite in the Desert



colours fade behind the Californian landscape, 


folks in homes on wheels of their own making 


dispersed across sandy openness, 


shrubs dotting guidance for where to spend the night. 


the man in my van strums soft acoustics 
and

someone in the distance sends the sun to sleep


with the flying of a kite.



kites always remind me of you


and I hate that


but I try not to hate, 


instead I nod at the memories as they surface 
one after the other;


of grassy hills in Virginia 


running topless with the wind


letting the string loose,


flying. 



this is what I’ve been up to without you,


I am so free,


I am so free, 



free?



Joshua Tree, 


Vannigan and me.


silence,

except for the guitar behind me 


being played by safer hands 
than

yours ever were.



those soft notes make me feel at home,


they remind me of you


and I hate that.