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post here and i'll embed you into some kinda literature, pt II.

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eyes resolute, he hops from rock to rock “there’s no difference between the come we’d leave in the quarry and the water in the oasis.”  when i balk as i am apt to, he laughs.  “i mean we are already naked.” we are.  he's right.  we took our clothes off at the campsite,  only left hiking boots on over thick socks. there is a burr in one of mine and it’s stinging the curve of thin skin over my achilles’ heel.

“i’m so glad you didn’t go, back in may…” my voice travels off with my eyes that are on the sky clawed with opaque white contrails against blue gold.


this is a good place.

"i'm glad too."

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