« minarets | Main | In the Grease »
May 16, 2005
memoirs of a wilting
it was not my own crime
but one which I had acquired
I traded the rights to my mid thirties
for six weeks on the road
with a woman who was
already spoken for
she wore one of those, rocks
on her finger
that
was the first, and last
thing we sold
it resides
in a pawnshop,
a few acres outside of
Albuquerque
I had a dufflebag
and a camera
she had about the same
or maybe a little more
those type of details
were not
what I was paying attention to
her skirt rose
and fell back high
with the guidance of my able bodied hand
the sunlight hit places
it had not previously reached
and she reached a place
that was famous
for its shooting stars
this was to go on
for weeks on end
under the various guises
of stralight
sunlight
moonlight candlelight
we robbed liquor merchants
of their finest wares
and rewards
with my shiny silver pistola
and sped away
in her cool blue machine
like a tidal wave
later
the retina of the desert
focused on the dusk
and blended the elements;
creating one hell of a photo
which of course
I took
evevrything was in its right place
we had no time
to even draw breath
it was a precaution
we had agreed upon
if only
to forestall the event
of waking up next to
a disappointment
or the reality
which waited for us
underneath headlights
and obligations that we had burned
on the fire
our second night out
gas is cheap
compared to chains
that most folks
secure to thier souls
I think the road ahead
stretches farther back
than it is obliged to reciprocate
at least that
is what we are hoping for
Posted by Drexler at May 16, 2005 04:21 PM