Grand Canyon This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

April 14, 2016
These days, it feels like I’m stuck
on one side of the Grand Canyon,
and you’re on the other. You are

a tiny dot against the muscle
of brown rock, and I can barely
see your wave with the sun in my eyes.

This bowl of blue above our heads
is beautiful, I remark, squinting
toward the cerulean stretch ahead,

but I know it would take more
than a 25-cent telephone call
for you to hear those words. I know

you’re doing fine, because of the postcards
you’ve sent – I read one just this morning
as I was lacing up my hiking boots. Kinda

funny, since we’re both here at 36.055 N,
112.121 W, but we each use up half an hour
a day on letters. You should know

I would never want to bankrupt you,
my friend. I just cannot help but remember
the strolls we took over this sun-

beaten earth, and I cannot help the vertigo
I get from looking down the cliffs
to the white rapids. Who crossed that bridge?

It does not matter. I wave, you wave,
and we grin our invisible smiles,
before we look to the horizon and continue

our own way.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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