Acquisitive eyes are blind,
more than half the time.
It is so in the desert,
a place more private,
intimate only with eyes
content both knowing and not knowing.
On the altiplano, paja brava
tuft and riffle like the water
that emerges here and there from sand.
Improbable, indomitable, the grasses and the water,
who host the private lives
of beetles, chinchilla, artemia.
Deserts are never naked,
but in spring, wear their flagrance.
As pimientos give scent,
optunia and flowers blaze.
They expect to be seen,
even in flagrante.
You must more than notice them:
face forward toward the mystery.