I fill my water
Five times a day
It’s still not enough
To chase away the drought
In my throat

My lips are chapped
Cracked like cakes of sand
They never used to do that
But I’m not
Used to here
Anymore

There’s 13 gas stations
In a mile radius
Competing over change
While 88,000 tourists
Do the same

The landscape is dull,
No trees,
No stars,
No anything

Just light-polluted skies
And rocks

My parents’ house
Is cookie-cutter beige
Palm trees
And too many cars
To fit the driveway

My home is the forest
My home is the vineyard
My home is where I can look up and see everything
Home isn’t here anymore.

/April 19th, 2023