Primitive Mentor

Desert Ode

22 Desert Ode When you look into the still, deep water, you can feel it looking back, trying to come up with the proper punishment. Fucking water, who made you the boss? I like the parts in my brain best that can look at a puddle of blood and reach for a mop although the parts that reach for a paintbrush have been of equal help. When I take my orphan brain to the desert it is especially appreciative of all the glitter, glitter the result of indiscriminant shatter. It’s the desert! You can throw rocks anywhere! And each eye is the eye of god now all deranged. Whatever She thinks of you going in isn’t what She thinks going out. You might want to make a sacrifice and don’t expect a sliding scale or a grade curve. No one comes out of the desert a college administrator or realtor, although you might be able to perform brain surgery with a stone knife. In the desert I feel like I’m made entirely of broccoli. The joy is surviving the poisonous sunset. If you are caught with a single to-do list, you will be executed. You will be tied to a chair and you’d better not float. If you harass a single hallucination, you will be executed. Drowning has nothing on the desert when it comes to striking your head like a match. 23 Why I was pardoned, I don’t know. I could only name 27 different kinds of sand. I kept jabbering about meteor showers, how it depends on your point of view. It was hard to imagine anyone making a pornographic movie in the desert but that just shows how naïve I was. What did I know about eating a human heart? You just need really long extension cords. That’s why I thought anyone I met in the desert was an angel suffering from amnesia. Either surgery with a stone knife as the cause or cure. Don’t bother trying to explain though. They’ll forget instantly, like rabbits. Just offer up your athletic beverage, maybe that’s how you’ll be spared. ...