A sleep full of nightmares, I wake at unrest and unrested. Walk around the double wide trailer in a heavy daze, contemplate meaning where none is to be found. At the end of the gravel road, I stand in the stillness and marvel at complete silence. The tears wetting my eyes act on their own accord, like drawn out into a vacuum, precious spots of liquid in the desert.
Later, I sit in the strange temple and try to speak to the spirits. They arrive quietly, bringing with them more tears until the front of my shirt is stained and the space inside my head is empty. They told me all I needed, so I do not hold this weariness against them. My neighbor tells me a pickup truck has been driving too slowly past the ranch, asks if I want to borrow a gun. We are not in Kansas anymore.
I no longer know where I am. Perhaps was the point all along.
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