Tucson, and Then (Poem)
“I keep moving
since every piece of dirt
I pay to borrow
for a time
eventually gets overrun
by the cockroaches
of success.”
This was written after our second stay in Tucson. We started our overland experiment there, heading as far as Key West, FL, then came back to Tucson, our favorite place to hang out. Be warned, though, it can get hot. As a bumper sticker declared: “It’s a dry hate.” But the music, the food, the people. Too groovy. We thought we should just stay there and settle in. This poem questions the very concept of having one’s identity and connections be connected to the property they own in a locale. Nómadas para siempre, quizás.