Today, a cloud with rain.

No boats though. No mud. Just a valley. A place in the desert.

All the windows here have vertical blinds, except the kitchen.
The kitchen light wakes me.

And aeroplanes. Aeroplanes overhead at all times.

What will sustain us?

A winter in the desert with no water, but flashfloods?

Chemistry taught me sublimation :
solid into vapor : weather in the west.

A drag queen barbershop quartet performs nightly here,
the Motel 6 overlooks the Riviera,
the Brooklyn Bridge is a sidewalk,
I’ve started to use my mother’s name again.

Mostly our mothers are dead now.

Daisy for the ground. You for the ground. Only Fadra left.

I don’t want to wish anymore.

I have to save love for things, Lorine.

Things keep me afloat.