Detail of a public sculpture by the author.

Oracle

by Allison Baker

On our third date we met in the desert. I sat in the mass produced macrame swing hung at an awkward height with my legs sticking out at strange angles while Carol Cole played on the cheap all in one record player. He was somewhere else inside doing something I found very unimportant.

You will always be on the other side of the world, even if that world is in your own head.

I kicked at sand gathering on the concrete and stared directly into the sun to try to burn my tears away.

I wept because my Venus is in Gemini, my attachment is “disorganized,” and I am my mother's daughter.

My mother once followed a man to the desert too where she gained a penchant for beaded belts and layered sterling silver bangles.

I got too high and tried to find jack rabbit dens in the yard. Wandering in a circle trying to move the earth faster so this would all hurry up and get to the good part.

Climbing and disappearing behind massive smooth boulders you took pictures like you were afraid I would disappear—which I did—before scolding you for sharing intimacy publicly you were never willing to show privately. I liked being seen even if only through your digital lenses where you keep all your feelings.

If you zoom in on a photo I wonder if you can see the grimace of pain building in my guts. Not my body tearing itself apart from being forlorn but because I had to take a shit and it felt sacrilegious to explode trying to hide beneath a Joshua Tree.

I couldn't laugh or shit for three days.

I pretended to be impressed as you overcooked my eggs one by one with the sluggish pace of a man that never truly worked a day in his life. Dwindling eggs marking how many times we've done this dance where you ‘contribute’ and I appreciate your decency to make eggs while tiny finger print bruises blossom below my collarbone. I'm petulant and refuse to eat. Not just because your eggs are shitty but I want to reject any offering besides utter devotion.

Watching the timid way you cut raw chicken and poked at it with a fork and a tinge of disgust, I'm not shocked by your aversion to sticking your tongue into the depths of a woman.

I should have demanded satisfaction earlier instead I lowered myself spiritually before my knees hit the linoleum.

I was a desert fuck oracle.

On our last full day we visited some hippie alien revival tent. Over-priced kombucha and spring water conveniently located at every exit next to the expensive, ugly earrings I convinced you to buy. The day before I broke your phone screen by accident when your delicate fingers couldn’t find the correct orientation for the latch for the top of the massive Jeep. Your fingers always struggled with orienting themselves blindly.

My internal monologue was screaming through the sound of singing bowls and ayurvedic breathing. On the aurally perfect silent square in the center of the mecca I looked again into the desert sun for clarity. He had a heart incapable of love beyond simple niceties, which still felt like a mechanical cold, dead, fish.

Internal fires took a massive intake of air to burn everything down within the confines of the sandy compound. I was determined to chaos. Music and light spanned across the yard, I danced wildly, cackled loudly and burned the leftovers leaving the oven unattended to arm wrestle at the little kitchen table. Refusing to admit defeat. Scientists long struggled to determine when squid were mating or trying to tear each other’s many limbs off. I spat ink in your aurora the next day. But not before wandering naked into the dark nearly starless night to soothe my aching muscles in the hot tub you refused to join me in yet again.

In the gentle morning light my astroprojection, sound bath experience worked like a bad Alex Grey painting. With a body filled and the transcendental high from gasping to breathe I was a desert fuck oracle. I bored viper holes into the places that hurt the most to touch deep in your soul. Your money, your father, your desires, your phony dreams, your lack of legacy, your wanderlust, your inability to pick up a fucking phone. I spilled prophetic truths telling you how your life would unfold in a raspy voice from a trachea squeezed too tight. My lips moved independently. My eyes never closed. You gave up. My fire sucked all the air from the room leaving you fighting for your own oxygen for once. I will always be a desert fuck oracle.

On a circuitous route to the airport I was determined to find genuine human connection.

There was a shy, handsome young man with a new tan cowboy hat and a well placed dribble of bbq sauce on his forearm as he tended to the large grill pit. Leaning over the old-timey fence I asked him to light my cigarette for me on the open flame. I leered, sucking on my cigarette watching him work and blushing. He was too timid to meet my eyes a third time.

The waitress and I walked in together giggling and clasped each others hands as I slipped her cash, apologizing for your shitty tip.

An older man pulled up on a motorcycle to the highway attraction, I jumped from rock to rock asking about his life and travels. Sitting cross legged and spritely I listened to him with rapt attention and the humility of humanity.

I had lost you again metaphorically and literally. Perched like a regal bird halfway up the graffiti strewn boulders, your crown of long, slowly greying locks framed your striking face perfectly. It was hard to stay mad at something so beautiful. Until we tried to scramble down together. Our hands clasped like brothers and I lowered you down before me. You looked at me with the same tinge of disgust you gave the chicken when I asked for help in turn to slide down smooth rock. I’m disgusted with myself for looking for strength within an unending chasm of someone else's weakness.

Turning down a sand road that looked more like rapidly breaking waves than traversable road I sang songs just for me and an excuse to utter more prophetic verses of namelessness aloud to you. Spending my last few hours in this alien landscape alone in the unfortunate company of another.

At the end of the road the sands opened up to a giant boulder that divided both halves of America. One side was ATVs and massive RVs flying American flags, the other pressed closer against the rocks of the cliffs were women in flowing, floral dresses and generators for DJ equipment.

I brought the last of the uneaten groceries and half a bottle of gin to a woman; it would be the second time I clasped the hands of a stranger that day starved for tenderness.

I asked her to tell me everything that was about to happen, what was I going to miss? Joy and freedom mostly. Still holding my hands the desert siren asked me to stay with her before she asked my name. Instead of replying I looked back to you with genuine affection for the first time.

“I will never see that man again”

“Why?”

“Because he will never be able to love me the way I deserve to be loved.”

Gently, she pulled me against her, our arms wrapping around the others shoulders. “That’s okay.”

A slow smile spread across my knowing face. Clarity delighted me. Being right delighted me. I sucked in more hot air and floated to the Jeep.

Uncharacteristically quiet, although I had learned to be quiet here. Smiles and soft laughs expanded and contracted and I skimmed the wavy sand road back to the highway like a speed boat grazing the tops of the waves and destroying someone else’s suspension. I refused to share our sisterly secrets and sped with a vengeance toward the airport and the rest of my life without you.

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