Lacemakers

Traffic in Phoenix

18 Traffic฀in฀Phoenix Summer here is an overexposed photograph. We retreat to interiors, listen to air siphon through vents. Like dollhouse dolls, what are we but shapes taking up space? I lift objects, hold them, set them down. From an airplane last week, I watched the city grow large: circuit board. Onramps. The freeway’s glittering points. Here the center is wherever you happen to be. Every intersection a promise, fabulous with lights: supermarket, gas station, discount store. When you don’t need anything, Lena says, you have to ask yourself what you want. I go outside, water my tomatoes. Heat and light. Aperture, I think. Aperture flooded. Impossible, in such intensity, to comprehend dimension; the pupils recoil. Expressway a swimming mirage. I talk to my tomatoes to help them grow: Listen. Traffic so constant you mistake it for breath. Ocean eroding beach. Where and how fast you’ll be taken. ...