I will disappear from home and
Reside on highways
My life a movement leaning west
Gaze fixed on setting sun
Towards the fullstop of a continent.
Scream cliffs downshift
Gentle sigh of waves on rock
The sky in March reminiscent
Of a womb pregnant
Lying tender on the hills.
A mailbox will I have
A wheelbarrow for groceries
A life alone contemplating the unmade Earth.
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