I climbed up a sandy mountain by my self

To see the top and the high desert

and the awful mountains west and north

alone among scattered trees

and a whirlwind miles down

I sat down to eat a sandwich

got sand in my clothes, in my shoes

on my skin. Roads crisscross the bare desert
precisely one mile apart in each direction

a skeletal grid of displaced desire
suburban destiny spilling over the mountains

On the summit I found a blue box

by accident. A log of names and dates

I added my name and date

and a note of greeting, like the others
marks of a meeting that always already happened

-a hubristic Hermit