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Her bare back beneath a low-cut summer dress,
tawny under evening trees.
Thick dusk sticks close to the patio
like hot clothes to be cast off.
The night's warm breath comes from her.
That explains her lure. It is hard
not to look, not to run
my hand along her slender spine,
gently, as crickets rub their legs
together in soft symphony.
It will not happen. But the thought
will hold me till we part, and longer yet,
late alone in the dark, pacing the floor.
Far from the river,
over a hundred mile,
the rhythm of the water
seems near. He listens.
Nodding and tapping time
to a blues record. Horns and huzzahs
ring in clean ripples
through the dark, and fireflies
float close outside.
The dark disc turns on its player
like a paddlewheel
thrashing brown water.
Salty waves of a tempest sea
leaped wildly over, engulfing me.
Sun and stars in their course spun round,
hurtled straightaway to the ground.
Mountains scaling high the air
fell on me-- I did not care.
To conquer me the universe
grew insane, grotesque, perverse.
Yet I endure because-- I will;
Undaunted, undiminished still.
Subtle, primitive,
smoldering colors of Colorado--
Unearthed,
quiet fire,
the essence of smoke signals.
Feel the warmth of Indian Summer.
Dusky mountain shadows and morning stars.
Wildberries glistening with moisture like dew drops, desert roses to prairie fire,
from copper canyons to new earth;
colors of a western sunset.
Scared, tortured face of a shattered hillside
twisted in death agonies of blasted buildings,
broken bleak foundations.
Foolish steps leading nowhere,
do not look back but forward.
There will be a resurrection,
sure renewal and rebirth--
metamorphosis of progress:
a superhighway.
