by Ariel Machell Frankie Lopez for Collin That night, at midnight, young and wild, we ran naked across the golf course beneath the moldering mountain lit by resort lamps in Palm Springs, and we looked at each other’s impressionable bodies and said, Let’s pray, not because we believed in anything in particular, but because the warm night air was caressing our exposed flesh in such a way that we felt we had to worship something in return. We had been so loud and it was time to