We wandered around the Mojave Desert for three days
In a 1962 white Chevrolet pickup
Affectionately nicknamed Blondie.
She jiggity-jogged along paved roads
Two lanes wide with soft, sandy shoulders
And too many dips through dry washes
Where flash floods occasionally rip out the pavement.
We regulated Blondie�s air conditioning
By rolling the side windows up or down
And adjusting the angle
Of the little, triangle-shaped vent windows.
The wind tangled my hair
And set the maps to fluttering on the seat beside me
Like grounded kites attempting to become airborne again.
I am home again.
Home, again.
The breeze through the window
Barely ruffles my hair.
I am grounded.
Mary [Ekholm] Francis
(c) 1999