La Sal Ridge

Which seems better to you? Shall I ride a train or a bus. Would it be better if you left me in the fall with a gray rain or a summer evening. Sweat on my brow. Bags in my hand. Two days ago things seemed so cheery. So much sunshine. I smell smoke. The tip of your fingernail is broken. I unwrap a piece of cornbread my sister packed for me on the trip out here. I didn't mean it. I can figure it out. I wish we had second chances. Instead of down here in this train car I wish I was high on La Sal ridge. Looking up at the stark white precipice. Wind in my ear. Glare in my eyes. We talked about what we would cook for dinner. I close my eyes again. I feel the humid heat from the steam release. The blast of air. We move. You only live in my dreams now. Only think of the good things. No sense of time. No order or rhyme. A patchwork of people I know and knew and YOU. Preachin' and teachin'. I see the same few people over and over in different forms. I am never any closer to them. My brain will never let them go. If you read between the lines you only see white. I will plant a field of white flowers. I will paint the sunshine. I will speak your name.