Arizona

A stranger tells me I am beautiful,
As I discover soft hands
Playing with my fingers.
My easy going lips;
The soft caress of his tounge.

In a place where they don’t recycle,
Not even for the extra few dollars,
My eyes wander
Around streets and parking lots
Filled with Beamers and the newest Volkswagens.
Discussions about the green buds from California,
And the eighty-degree difference between the town that turns red when the sun sets
And the white valleys
Where I find my home.
Background noise of traffic and music unlike my own,
Heavy with strong voices.

I smile in hundreds of photos,
With the people from conversations at 3 in the morning.
My face subtly glows,
In a crown of overused eye shadow, new breasts, fake teeth,
And acne hidden with a week’s work of make-up.
I question why I don’t want to leave.
***
He rests under a sweating sun,
As it trips over the red rocks,
It bleeds through a city,
Full of clay houses and hungry nocturnal beasts.
***
I sat an wondered who
Tossed the snow globe I lived in,
As feathers fell and coated
The valleys full of freeze stricken maples and uncovered hands.
I found myself,
In a photo with a familiar stranger.
The temptation overflowing between out noses,
Brushing lips brought locked eyes.
Caught in a moment of curiosity,
He can see romance
Distantly standing still and alone in my eyes.