A Salton Eternity

The Hunt for Forever

I've been staying in a room at a rundown motor lodge on the edge of Salton City that smells like rotted Chinese food and black mold for months. The television plays nothing but CNN static, the blackout curtains are threadbare and the holes in them let the morning light wake me up every day. The air conditioner next to the bed drips water into a tin baking pan like a clock counting off seconds until climate change dries up the Salton Sea for good. Right now, the sea still exists. I can walk out, get in my car, drive down, and look at it. A fish skeleton on the beach. If it's a beach. If that’s a fish.

Every morning I get up, leave the dying motel, get a fossilized everything bagel, and drive to the edge of the Salton sea for breakfast. Sweating through my jacket. Staring out at the water, my nose burning, cheap overroasted coffee burnt from being left out too long before I bought it cooling in one of those little toss off cups, tan and brown, cheap, textured polystyrene if it were concr…