Rockhounding

by Emile P. Campos

I stood at the top
of a mountain
in the middle
of the Mojave desert
trying not to lose
my footing
on the rocks.

The sunset
behind my father
filled my eyes
with tears.

“You havin’ fun,
monkey?”
He asked,
crouched over,
his back to me.

I could only nod
in response,
afraid my voice
would crack
if I tried to speak.

I could only wish
that in my next life
I really could be
a monkey.

That way I could
live outside,
someplace like
this, forever.