On our second anniversary, we should go, at midnight, to the Elephant Butte cemetery to remember how we cheated death. Over and over.
We're in New Mexico, Sierra County, Truth or Consequences. Late May, there's an indigo western sky. Hand in hand, we'll walk through the graves, each step a renewed vow. I have tallboy Budweiser in my pocket to share on a little bench. We'll speak in hushed tones. A coyote will do its weird howl out in the night. No ghosts here. Not anymore. Just a living promise, the flesh of metal rings forged to fingers through spirit, no haunt. There's new life here and we are giving back in this well-named place, this graveyard in wild NM, crazy country of rattlesnakes and hippie ritual and sunburn and straw cowboy hats.
Truth or consequences. We'll marry again. Over and over.