driving across the great salt lake
through morning haze
it strikes you that nobody is special
& how liberating that is

the mounds of salt
cocaine-white & piled high
as an apartment building:
shards of an ancient ocean
tucked into single-serve packets
of plastic silverware
hidden in soft drinks
& ingested with french fries
so innocuously

a cop by the side of the road
just standing
never seen the clouds so low
or the desert so green
& this is nothing special either

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