Desert Dweller

Our memories are a turbulent sea.
All of what we see and hear
gets churned and edited
over and over.

The best parts float,
skimmed from the foam,
caught in piles of driftwood,
for the next monsoon rain.

Our brains get busy
whenever we touch something,
creating connections,
rearranging what we knew.

Smells and tastes we love,
come rushing back like a river,
flowing, swirling, tumbling
down a rock-strewn canyon.

Rivers of thought flow,
conveying driftwood and silt
into the ocean,
salted with parts of us all.

© 2026 Bruno Talerico
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