my childhood home is all of the mistakes
all of the failures of a family gone mad
and friends that slipped under the carpet with the desert dust.
she calls me into boiling embraces under tan red sky
and about once a year i am given a chance to really remember
the open roads
shards of mountains
saguaro cactus
apocolypse sun
midnights empty, save for the train
lightning
thunder
rain
heat
the death that is long gone
and can only rear its head
with me
as i dance
across
the valley floor.