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Hot
desert
sun,
feeling
my
skin
tighten
and
redden
and
glow.
Clear
blue
sky,
some
days
littered
with
fluffy
whiteclouds
in
the
shape
of
rabbits,
cats,
or
a banquet
of
musicians.
Watching
long
spikes
of
grass
rustle
in
the
breeze,
an
ant
holding
onto
his
structure
swaying
with
the
force
of
the
unseen
wind.
Many
times
I'd
follow
the
ants
to their
home,
becoming
a part
of
the
community.
Each
had
a purpose;
each
had
a personal
grain
of
sand
or
food
to
share.
What
will
I share?
Whom
with?
Where?
Riding
to
California
in
the
back
of
an old
yellow
pickup
truck,
wind
burning
and
chapping
my
skin,
my
hair
becominga
complete
knot
of
tangles
like
my
mind.
I see
the
ocean
for
the
first
time
in
my
life.
Not
one
to
wade
gingerly,
I run
into
the
waves
and
try
to
swim.
The
waves
show
a strength
I cannot
fight,
pulling
me
under,
slamming
my
body
against
the
rocky
floor,
my
skin
broken,
my
respect
for
this
force
strengthened.
Waves
like
small
ants,
working
with
other
waves,
all
with
small
grains
of
sand
or
food
to
share.
I
am
that
tiny
ant,
the
forceful
wave,
and
the
fluffy
cloud.
My
grain
is
with
me
to
share,
at
times
too
tiny
to
see,
at
times
too
forceful
to
keep,
at
times
to
fluffy
to
grasp.
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