Something that’s interesting about travel is that it inherently takes you out of your normal routines and imposes a degree of the unexpected, or as I prefer to call it, sheer chaos. Which is kinda fine by me in a lot of ways.
My writing routine has been all over the place as of late, and I’ve been grabbing words out of the air wherever and whenever I can. This poem was typed out while waiting out in the warm Arizona sun using the notes app on my phone. Not my usual weapon of choice, but it’ll do.
the script the little things that seem humongous are all that’s left after the fire - rubble of a movie set seen from two perspectives - a romance scene turned scene of the crime, has anyone seen my heart lately? pan left, roll credits, & fade out.