i only think of you in the quiet

i only think of you in the quiet 

only in the quiet

when the world seems the most desolate, the most devoid of hope

is when i let you enter my thoughts again

a swift breeze drifts in,

bearing some causal ghostly presence

and there you are, haunting me like always

i guess that when

i am taken from my home

to drive across the flatlands

look over miles and miles of dry plains 

witnessing the true expanse of it all

i am reminded of you

the peculiar way

our first encounters—our distance, span the globe

i can picture you in the desert

in this vacancy, i feel connected to you

i know you have crossed similar paths before

i know you think about the earth in this way

when do you feel most at peace, mattea?

for me, i think it is when i floss my teeth

i tell you i feel at peace in the desert

i wish i could be there with you someday

sometime between then and now

i’ve come to hate you

i hate your photography,

and your prose

across the Mojave night

on the cold dark bus

you sit down beside me

run your fingers through your hair

ask me what i want from my life

i will tell you i don’t know

i will tell you it’s all meaningless

i know that somewhere, across this stretch of land

you are breathing

i don’t know anything more