Tag Archives: Heather Truett

There‚Äôs a Party in Rachel, Nevada

by Heather Truett

I’d like to be there, but not to find aliens or get one over on the government. I would like to be inside that energy, the kind that leads you to whisper about extraterrestrials in the dark, meet strangers in a desert, not climbing literal fences, but breaking boundaries, nonetheless. I’d like to be inside one of those fifteen rooms in the local motel, booked solid, maybe sitting on a balcony as the sun goes down. Someone breaks open a glow stick, the neon green waving underneath a sky gaudy with stars. Continue reading

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Filed under Poetry