Tom

I OUGHT to be glad Jasmine’s through with me. I called her on her shit and she walked, same as last time.

But there’s something itchy and unsettled in my center. Like I fucked up and I need to fix it.

So my compromise is making sure Jasmine gets safely to her RV instead of wandering around the plaza like a vagabond.

The drive to her RV is beautiful and the place she chose to park exquisite. She’s nestled right on the edge of the Rio Grande gorge, but still among pine trees.

She has a couple solar panels on the roof, a solar shower set up in a tree and a little flower pot with wilted columbines by the front door.

“Oh, you’re thirsty, aren’t you, sweet flowers? Let me give you a drink.” The looney woman is talking to her flowers. She opens the RV and comes back out with a jug of water, which she pours on the wilted flowers. “The pot is too small,” she says to me, as if I was wonderin