Half the team is in Albuquerque for the Southwest Shootout Slam. I am not in that half. I can't wait to hear all about the Shootout. KB and I got together today and worked on some poetry. Our poetry is on fire.
It’s summer in Colorado again. The fires are full and roaming around the mountains.
An old friend, distant from me by five state lines calls to make sure I have not melted.
When I don’t answer, he pictures my phone: a pile of molten plastic, my lungs black and my bones ash, cremated by nature, recomposing into the high plains desert dirt. He doesn’t bother to leave a message.
He calls a second time. When I don’t answer, he pictures the worms and sits nervous until I get out of work and say everything is fine. He tells me about the girl who burnt his heart down as if we were sitting by the lake again. He tells me I am missed, I am not the only adult to get homesick, and says he’s glad I haven’t become fuel for the fire.
Boulder hasn't been in the path of any fires so far this year. Colorado Springs though, where all my team mates reside, are in the midst of it. Please send your prayers/love/thoughts/good vibes their way.
Love ya.
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