I wander, therefore I am
barely on the map. Lost and
supine in solitude, the wind is
carrying sunflower seeds across
the Utah desert and into the San Juans.
Now we flee from desire to devour
the numinous beauty of the Rockies!
Gunnison whispers back to me and I see you
within the vermillion sunset. 
In this life, libre means free and
trails are meant for dancing.
Deluge and petrichor taught me to go
southwest and then southwest again, so I end in
Durango and breathe.
To leave is to be, to stay is to go.
Take me, Colorado, take the eighty miles
between us and shrink it to one.