I keep myself busy long enough to not remember the time.
I keep track of minutes best in the mountains
feeling them passing like a rhythm in my mind.
My head is so full
of so many small things I can’t describe
but when I think
of you, I think of riding the bus too far
because you didn’t tell me the stop to get off at
I think of hazed sundown hikes
in trails of packed, dry dirt
where we drank too much
and stumbled back down
through the dark
I never knew the way the mountains held me
until I felt
their absence. Fondness
is just another word
for forgetting
this dirt is not Boulder dirt and I can’t sleep on a soft,
sunken bed. This sunshine
is not Boulder sunshine, but I am happy anyways
I pray to God there is something left of me tomorrow
and whatever it may be,
it is yours
for the taking
Chloe Chinchilla is a poet and nonprofit manager living in Salt Lake City, Utah.
