Desert Sunrise

I wake in the middle of the night, stifled, a desert headache full of red wine beating its drum behind my temples. The bed is better than any I've slept in for years, the house so silent you could hear a spider crawl. By morning, there is a cockroach in the kitchen sink and a hundred degrees on the back porch steps. 

I saunter around the trailer like I'm wading through a dream, feeling nothing and everything alll at once. Work beckons but all I want to do is write. All I want to do is wait for the sun to set over the desert mountains and listen to silence until it speaks. 

Two birds land on the front porch, looking around themselves like they're waiting for a routine. You think you should introduce yourself. 

I am here now, you'll say. I'll be here, now. And they'll know
exactly what you mean.