Luna sits on a
metal bench in Chicago
on the verge of tears.

She may already
be crying but she can’t feel
because of the rain.

Oh wait, this droplet
is warm, definitely tears.
“How did I get here?”


Luna stuffs her face
with cheesy chimichanga,
then starts up the van.

Ah, desert van life.
For two years, she’s roamed the state
of Arizona.

Desert terrain stirs
her soul. Dry, hot days, chilly
nights cuddled in quilt.

Her inner hippie
is overjoyed by being
one with the outdoors.

The dry heat feels like
cooking in an oven, oh
so masochistic.

Until it starts to
become irritating. The

Bad wi-fi, a cramped
living space, meals ready-to-
eat. And the van mouse.

Luna is against
killing animals but co-
habitating sucks.

He poops all over
the place, gets into the food,
chews holes in her clothes.

Maybe she can feed
the mouse to a snake. Circle
of life’s not killing.

Right? She quells her guilt
with food chain logic. This mouse
has got to go. Now.

Standing on corner
in Winslow, Arizona,
she improvises.

A snake charm song. With
a spare pungi she happens
to have in the van.

One snake is charmed (by
the smell of the mouse) and he
slithers through the sand.

Luna is amused
by the proximity of
snake. Takes a selfie.

She brings her face next
to the snake’s, smile, click, and bite.
Fangs plunge in her neck.

While unconscious in
the ER, she has a dream
about Al Capone.

Her eyelids pop up
and her deep-seated fear of
snakes speaks, I mean yells.

“Go to Chicago!”
Of course! No snakes in concrete
jungles. Van life out.

Highrise living in.
She misses Arizona
so much though. The Cure?

Arizona Green
Tea addiction. But it takes
over her whole life.

She loses her job
and relationships. Sulks by
buying two more cans.

Spiraling to rock
bottom, she sits on a black,
cold, metal street bench.

It’s pouring rain. She
gazes at the two mint-green,
unopened, large cans.

In the store basket
that she unwittingly stole.
Her hope is restored.

Like a zombie, she
leaves, finding her way back to
oven hot desert.