Hansen, Emily Lake

Desert Vacation

1. There it was suddenly — the javelina,
2. scurrying like a squirrel across the motel
3. parking lot. Its wooly body swerved left
4. and right around cars, darting towards
5. the conifers at the end of the row.
6. You gasped when you saw it — your mouth
7. hung open in a squeal. I thought something
8. must be wrong, the way you waved
9. your hands about at your sides, the way
10. your legs froze in the middle of walking,
11. but it was just joy, the desert pig digging up
12. mirth from your insides. I tried to chase after it
13. for a photo, speed walking with my hand
14. on the flash, but you stopped me, calling
15. out with caution as if I was the foolish one
16. and you were ever responsible. The picture
17. I managed turned out blurry and dark,
18. the javelina just a gray flash near the corner
19. of the frame. Who knew there was life
20. in the desert? Long ago, I had lived nearby
21. and slept in a house where the oven was kept
22. in a breezeway outside. It was too hot
23. to cook then anyway and I burned everything
24. I touched. I came back with you looking
25. for home or for its opposite, for some sign
26. I had made the right choice. You took me
27. to a psychic. She laid out tarot cards
28. on the table, produced visage after visage
29. of sword and stone. What’s holding you back?
30. she asked, pointing down to a knight
31. blocking the way. In the corner card,
32. a lady picked apple after apple from a ripe
33. green tree. I pictured the javelina, running
34. full speed on its tiny feet, its round belly
35. jiggling above the asphalt. Nothing,
36. I told her, my arms crossed against my chest.
37. Instead of a picture, I brought home a statue
38. as souvenir: an inch tall javelina, its body
39. recreated in slate going nowhere.