Like the heat of a desert city
that would never find its way
to the national news channel.
Her shadow cast down
onto the scolding pavement.
The heated gravel evaporated the past,
and off it drifted into the future.
There I sat in a distant mind state,
in her shade, in a moment.
Our conversations—raging, cooling, pulsating.
Teardrops shuddered from the raging thunder above.
Author Bio:
Ian Mark Macfarland lives in the city of Tucson, Arizona, where he attends school in pursuit of a masters in creative writing. He has recently been published in the 2016 Mochila Review as well as Tucson's own SandScript Magazine.