Poem: Like Cacti

Tonight,
the skies are cloud free and the wind sleeps
to a 95 degree baked earth.
She waits
in a faded paisley bikini – once
fire hydrant red – next to a man
who can never lay still.
She says,
you never know when it may rain.
Out here in the desert,
the cacti wait.
I’d like very much to have their patience.

And she stays with him.