Diamond Fork, 1997

Something about the smell
of the cashews and the dark chocolate
sent me through a wormhole –
and I landed in the mountains of Utah,
the smell of sulfur from the hot springs
having mostly faded into the scent of pines
and smoke.
The day having mostly faded into evening,
obscuring the faces of the laughing voices
connected to the naked bodies soaking in the warm pool of this river –
rolling like an avalanche, coming down the mountain.
We all floated in the warm, minerally water,

and on clouds of smoke.