Journey in late June: Sixty miles
from home and something on the radio
about a flood. Here, there is no flood, no trickle, no whisper of
rain for more than forty days. Here,
the grass crackles, burns at a wink and there's not anything to write about that isn't covered with dust,
but for the stars, but for tomorrow and all her different dresses.
Forty-five miles to go
and I sing to the River Dolores, bride's
child with her hidden smile, wedding flowers in her hair, hint of a
secret that summer tossed out. Listen: this is the way of the season here, this is a part of me that I'm
telling you about. Are you there?
Are you there?
Mile post thirty two and
I couldn't be closer to you if I hovered
at the generous lips of the rimrock, if I spoke with the voice of the
storm itself and here, even the sky has fires at twilight, soot-capped
clouds to keep it under wraps. I sing,
the world sings, we're all dying but yet celebrating beneath this thin
We don't know any
different. Or else we just can't help ourselves.
Twenty-three miles and
maybe this was where the town used to be and maybe this is the yesterday of me, the insistence that certain
things pass by in dimlights, in silence,
in the way that they should go. Or maybe it's a bit of the water
game we used to play - Marco...
Ten miles is like ten
minutes, is a bit too quick when I've decided I could drive like this
forever. I'm wondering what you'd say to that - if you'd have me
skip the turn, have me end up on some other street, at some other home, some other window.
Wishing I was here because I'd already wished you were there.
Wishing we were both anywhere new.
Prime property on the Wolf Road, Milky Way City with neither a fire or
flood or any other however. I
These are my fences,
these are my trees. This is the slowest, winding drive in the journey of me, the
never ending everything I keep telling you about; this is my
flame-claimed sky and the dust-strewn groove, the crook of an arm where
I lay my head just before you reach, pick the flowers from my hair. Just before
you return the smile.
to thank my editorial staff, as always, for all of their hard
work. Thanks, also, to the contributors of this issue. And
if you're reading this, thanks to you, too... whoever you are.
Til next time,