1 the wind goes on forever like a sweet dream and it throws the caliche dust at my window faster than a Junior Varsity pitcher ever could. the noise is real fine, soft amniotic static. About The Author every time I try to write, sing, speak or think it's always the highway, the desert, pretty girls and puppy dogs. 2 when the glass ashtray frisbees across the room check fraud friends scatter like roaches in a new light like sand in the dunes West Odessa Agnostic you stole an hour from tomorrow evening and slipped it into my shirt pocket, I sharpened the mountains on the western horizon and let them slice the sunset to shreds, wove it into a basket and floated down the long muddy draw to you. we smudged draft lines on each other's daydreams, we learned immortality in indifference. I swore I could have rode the leviathan, I swore I could turn the primordial auroch into docile ox and plow the salted earth, I swore to never want to be young again. ⁸Young Again Mary went down to the crossroads to sell her youth for strength Mary tore out any eye that glanced backward so she could stare down the future, face to face. high noon , cheeks full of razor blades, hot lead in the air , warm iron on her hip. Mary? can you show me where it hurts? Mary? did the future draw quicker? Mary? did you see a shade of our mother? Mary? is this another raw deal? Another Raw Deal Instant coffee, expensive creamer, bare feet cold on the linoleum. I'm so fucking tired. Why get sick to get well? Why sweat the petty stuff every step of the endless way? Why wonder, late at night sometimes why I feel so goddamn old? Fully Gentrified Caucasian America, I've got my one and only, my economy car and prescription sunnies, my old friends mostly dead, whether anyone's told them or not. don't say the same about me? ten years a pitbull on a chain, one day you wake up with no scores to settle. and no idea what to do with yourself. To Sing the Body Eclectic I sing the body eclectic, picking up pieces where I find them, any man who makes a home of the sunbake will earn scars and crowlegs like these, but this particular light in the eye came when I dreamt Eden, complete with Eve. Operator, please 951 not 915, it's long distance, Californian. I sing the body of sins inherited, I still remember my mom sending bottled messages down the house phone hoping currents carried them to my father out on work, high plains drifter, parts unknown. High Plains Drifter It's been said that there's nothing like being drunk on a New York summer night. it hadn't been summer proper for weeks, but it had been the kind of summer that bleeds both ways like a watercolor in the wind. like a fever that never breaks. Strange for New York. but that may have been because it wasn't New York Proper, either. It was New Mexico, by the map lines, but the part of New Mexico that could be just Texas bleeding west, Colorado dripping south, Like a watercolor stood upright, like a fever coughed all on a bedmate. I was drunk though. New York be damned. 4 coming in Hot up the 15, lake elsinore on your left hand side, water shimmering in a heatless mirage- clear as intentions- and well out of reach of the fossilized smog. PCH Forever We left San Diego early enough, still with 6 hours left paid on parking we checked out of the loft above the lawyers and next to the hair salon, where all night planes flew in low overhead, drowning out giggles, hiccups, sobs, low sighs of real contentment. Set out on the interstate crawl north toward a pin pushed into a map straight through a sleepy bedroom town, straight through your bedroom. Anywhere is on the way (if you go there first) We decided the ocean was on the way. Sat on a cliff overlooking it, eating grocery store sandwiches and I didn't miss my drought babies or check fraud friends, but I did wish they could have seen me, finally happy, safe in the salt.