Adobe Morning is the name of the coffee for sale. Such is the grammar of la madrugada. And I sit and tell no one about the crush I have on an Acoma man, his laughter fashioned and returning to my memory like a famished hummingbird. And as I sip the coffee named, branded, labeled Adobe Morning, I cannot help but sink into this place, this space, this Southwest.
IN THE HOTEL POOL ON THE DEAD SEA ROAD; JORDAN, 2008
August, in Jordan on the shores of the Dead Sea, the lowest point in the world.
The afternoon sky hums above the cobalt Sea and a searing sun lights up the pool, the navy deck chairs, the bleached canvas umbrellas. Across the Sea stand the conflicted peaks of the West Bank – Jerusalem, Hebron, Bethlehem. To my East, a mere nine hours’ drive away, lies a scarred and combatant Baghdad, in a still-warring Iraq. But here, floating on the soothing surface of a hotel pool, the view of the peaceful Sea, the lively light of the sun skidding across the water, the refreshing wetness, distort my landscape.
BASK IN THE COLOR OF THE TABLE
KEVIN J. KELLEY
Maud Martha and I share a kitchenette, and no, it wasn’t the one we wanted.
Underneath the gray is always hope, hope for a different color.