This Place Will Never Be the Same Twice

This Place Will Never Be the Same Twice

This vast, white space is not frozen.

The tumbling sands swell across the land

further than my eyes can grasp.

The dunes wait, patiently

for visitors, for wind and time.

Momentum fuels

their constant state of travel.

A small part of the dunes resides

in the fibers of my living room carpet,

but a few grains, the crest of a wave

of particles, crushed rock and stone,

shifting slightly with every step.

They often travel as stowaways.

Cling to clothes and sweaty skin,

stick to shoelaces and water bottles.

Sometimes they travel by foot,

slipping into socks to settle

and crunch between toes.

A flurry of blisters is created.

Travel by mouth is less common,

but they sometimes find a puff of air,

fly by exhalation;

or wedge themselves between teeth,

or under tongue for long distance transit.

Many of these gritty travelers are discarded.

Stuck to a shirt or a damp bathing suit,

tossed in with the rest of the wash.

The granules are swept down the drain,

settling in the bend of a pipe.

The journey, it seems

ends here.