The sun rises, illuminating my hands as they press these keypads. I am grateful for my life. i pause and notice the depth of my gratitude. Sometimes, it is very shallow. I lay in bed and cry, and feel dissapointed in myself for these immature and waisted tears.


so it goes.


and here is she, the beautiful sun, she leaps up as i am rising. her glow cuts the heavy clouds over this usually sunny city.

what does that mean?

that i spent the night with humanity. talking. promoting. considering. looking.

"would you like a drink?"

"well, of course sir, being that i am not that much of a prude, a gin and tonic please."

"where do you live?"

" i live in my home, but mostly i live in my heart."

"really? but what do you own?"

"i own myself. and a few other odds and ends. would you like something?"


"sir, have you seen our beautiful desert sunrises? it is raining and the clouds are extra vigilant in thier presence, as they move and dance in front of the sun."

he answers, as he looks down at his well-ironed clothes, and he says,


" i don't know about all that, but i hear the odds for blackjack are better this week."

so i sigh. what can you really say? i pointed my soul at the direction that is truly joyous. the beautiful sunrise.


but his pursuit led him to different ends.

"Baby, i am going home. i hope you win lots. you deserve it:



so i hopped in my car and drove home with the windows cracked, enjoying the desert storm as it rolled in off the mountains. i was ready for it.