Desert Scene

Desert Scene

Walking in the desert in the nighttime.
Night air so cold when the desert’s deep asleep.
Sand gets hard from the cold.

Sitting in the car, smells like vinyl, feels like the cool stick-and-hold of cool vinyl on cool skin. The headlights train of vehicles lighting up the black and flaring cacti into existence. When you pass by they are draped in dark, fading away, but still standing proud like giant cucumber men.

Who will remember for you?
What’s to remember anymore?
Who will call you “daddy”? What’s the pottery-shatter now?
Now you live like a little gummi spider bouncing on the sticky gummi string.
Now you live like a child waiting for the show out in the cold with the sand underfoot keeping everything almost firm, almost solid

Never mind. The UFOs are all you remember.
The eerie round lights bobbing with the dirt road.
And a million other things that never happened.


Comments are closed.