thank ya jesus but i believe in gravity

I bring four apples with me. I get to the ghost town at high noon and park at its cemetery (Alice Walker says you should go to the places that scare you). I sit with the hatchback open and eat my second-to-last apple with some sunflower butter. I leave my last apple here on a pile of coins.

I’m thinking about forty acres named Solitario, 

and the one most important ingredient of a shelter is heat.

if the heart is the yoke, 

then hearth is undulating sandstone,

Icecream Mountain dirt, pink and brown, colonizing under my nails,

and the sunspots of Trans-Pecos reaching East-West around my nose, 

with little black persimmon trees lining the lids of arroyos. 

how could we forget our first shelter is the Sky?

houses here are just commodities for millionaires;  

here is the case of developers vs. preservationists 

and developers always win.

There in the wilderness the parallel is to know what exists around, 

how to go from a one nighter to a home; 

I think I just need a milkyway-blanket to feel good.