Lost in a desert , if you will.

or to even marvel at the thought for a second, sidewinder.

On any occasion, for context,

some commentary:

Merely a mountaintop, closer than you think.

Merely a countertop, off in the distance.

Really only missing is the the stovetop and desktop,

and a table and chairs.

The desert ultimately needs nothing,

similar in scope to the frozen moon, in the frozen sky, in this frozen desert, in our frozen kitchen.

With a dozen needs, for a dozen days, and a dozen eggs, even in a dozen kitchens

We are frozen, and so is the night

I for one am always on board with frozen pizza,

and so is the night...

To get me interested in the desert, and in the mountains,

or any other ingredients for that matter,

I’ll need to bring the magnetism, an the red pepper flakes.

Like any good guest, I’ll carry it with me,

with your good graces under my bent elbow,

My other hand is empty, but my pockets are full to bursting.

( I can’t be empty, because I am frozen)

Waiting for your hand, that is instead full to bursting, with jawbreakers or heat-seekers or both.

This is my cross to bear,

This is my desert to cross.

Turning away from the widening gyre,

Taking my flinger off the space bar,

Here I come again!

Functionally or not,

Frozen or not.

Spinning away, reluctantly, repentantly,

veering upwards and out of the stadium,

magnetic or not,

mnemonic or not.

To conclude, and in context this time:

I hope this brightens your smile, sidewinder.

I hope this lights up something, as it passes through your blind spot, and careens headlong into traffic,

into pieces, into absolutely nothing, and sand.