Petra

 City ofthe dead soaring rose sand:Bedouin like lost pirates,kohl lined eyes cries thatsplit the thin air. I was lostto myself until Iclimbed like mountain goat;found, eagle spunon anabatic wind. Yalla, yalla,young boys beat donkey’sside, wind whipped: & I endorphin high,teeter on the edge,leaning into my own void.