Sara Solano
West
The arid land beneath the soles
of my dusty sneakers
slithers its way
into the motel room.
Its chipped floral wallpaper
reveals lead tainted paint,
and the carpet screams
a damp odor.
The toxic chlorine filled pool
stings all over
as the merciless sun
burns through skin
and bone.
It is beautiful.
Fresh and new.
Free of failures and discontent,
of unwanted memories.
Miles upon miles of absolutely nothing.
This is the beginning.