A poem in search of a title. For extra points, guess what it's about.

on the trail of the sun, the border
in Sonora Desert disappears, an empty intersection
late at night where traffic lights flash

red& green at once, a signal meaning
yellow, which itself is understood to say
some word with meaning everywhere

but here, the morning bears a tinseled cactus
Christmas gift of freedom -- Freedom, Arizona,
floats upon the dead sea, paling dawn

mirage, night’s last star of wonder-
ing what dreams may come upon a midnight
clear of roadblocks to magnetic north,

a quick trip over sagebrush hills into haze
where oases bend the cacti into palms:
broadleaf trees the size of hands, a paradise

so close it feels like dirt – or sand
that tries to pass as water in this garden,
flowing down the throat to choke us