When You Let(s) [Her] Go

Slim pulled the door shut in passenger and said, "let's go."
The car sped away down the long abandoned road, past abandoned shacks with abandoned plants, the life literally being sucked out the earth by the sun.
Feet up on the dashboard, chin to chest, Slim kept her gaze from wandering too long. Where were the caretakers of these properties?
Barry must be feeling the same way as these cacti. Standing still watching Slim make off on her own journey. But she's lonely looking for herself out there, Barry consoled himself thoughtfully.
Barry knew it in the way her eyes didn't shine when she sat shaking a still developing Polaroid (which she recently learned might or might not make the picture blurry, thanks Outkast)
Barry knew it in the way she thoughtlessly kissed, with her lips, with some tongue, without her heart. Without her grip in the hair tugging and twirling the short strands of boyish cuts between her fingernails, slightly less stubby since she stopped biting. Only slightly.
Barry knew it in the way she broke his heart.
Slim felt it in the way her hands shook at the thought of it, and heaven knows she's miserable now.
She has no job, but she's a worker of her heart. Slim tapped the window with her index knuckle, "get gas here."
She walked away letting someone else take care of fuel. Slim kicked around in the dirt and then sat under the vaccuuming sky, scorching her with its heat. From beneath, the cracked ground, hot to the touch. From above, the blistering sun beamed not proudly, boastfully on Slim's face, flushed rosy with color.
Around her, mountains of dry soil, she did not understand how they stood as many years for the world without melting or cracking under its massive pressure. Between the pressures of peers and fears alone Slim felt crush galore.
To her left, Slim turned, to observe the stem of an infant succulent.
New life. Stemming from the old, and dried out, burned, and teased with breezes, again, new life.
Eyes back up, to the burning orb amongst the rest of our constellations attendance. Burn my eyes, Slim thought, and it's vision into the past where I no longer am welcome. Welcome me, with clarity. Of here. And now. And with her wish, Slim willed the infant succulent to infinity. Whatever it's own little infinity may be.