I had imagined
optimistically, as always,
that while the engines wheezed us
over the indistinct deserts and ranges
of a mysterious country,
that you would find comfort in my shoulder.
That the sweet breaths of your dreams
would warm my heart.
But luck, callous as always, had other plans.
So, now I gaze out to where
the Pacific is a heart-breaking blue
and see rivulets reach
into the desert with turquoise fingers.
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