On Camelback Inn Stationary

The luxury of a mission,
Homeless unlike stones
Whose smoothness carries the hot dry breeze
Through rasping leaves.
The sun finds you
Even through the canvas parasol,
The rocks like lizard skin go from cold to hot.
The towel I am wrapped in must come off.
There are no secrets here—they are
So small, when exposed
Under the glare of the blue dome
That extends beyond the mountain.