While Hiking at Red Rock...

rocks hardwired to other rocks slipping underneath your gray newbalance shoes luon sticking to a cactus picked out over raw hummus and smoothies and sun gazing over a fake lake paddle boats old school style any style two men smoking cigarettes and one has risked his life for the other you can just tell by the way they swagger around each other and you sit and enjoy some fake grass after trying to catch up on the way up the desert mountain and on the way down you were like a cat, impressive and red cheeks and nose dry in that desert and the strip was tiny, you crushed the stratosphere with your index and thumb all those people making bad decisions below you and earth and breeze and some cashews and dates pictures being taken and remembered one after another with sweat frozen with dust to your forehead and it's so nice to have a day off and see the red rocks in the distance one after another laying on each other so soft and curled up and sitting, one leg on top of the other, you talk about things that have been, travels to what you considered the edge of the earth and to you it's impossible to only have been as far east as Chicago but then again the last time you were in Portland you were four and things scramble on the way down you turn and scale a mountain and miss a yoga class and things don't seem to bother you as much as they used to even as he moves way out ahead of you and even when on the way up you pointed out your family dynamic in a group of friends your mom in the car your dad way up ahead and sister mediating in the middle brother off missing somewhere and you taking a break near the bottom and when you see them at the top the you has wondered off and made it up first and you take a picture of yourself and he then takes a picture of you in a bridge pose and yoga makes you heal and wonder about these kinds of things wandering around the mountain and you both can even see Utah from here and then driving to go get those smoothies and sit by the lake you stop by a neighborhood with hills of fake grass and both see your teenage years in a flash of smoke and you put your broken sunglasses on, crooked on your sunburned nose and you move slowly to something tired, something rested, something unheard of before now...