trona

we survive death valley
but a small town
tears us back down
to every earthly suffering

a sunbleached hell
beside blinding salt flats
broken beyond reckoning
poverty chokes from behind

out where the tarmac is rough
and the color of oxblood
a steady road hum grazes
the textures of our minds

an ache akin to fingertips
searching the dark for meaning
a bum groping gravel
desperate for cigarette butts

out where the stars are endless
we are blessed to pretend
our dreams were never broken
we get to drive fast past trona

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Unholy Imaginings Copyright © by Kat Karney. All Rights Reserved.

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