and tough it out
between the cattle and the moon
but what if she goes off
and gives up the ghost
of him
forever
falls off the face of the earth
somewhere
without even a kiss good-bye
that would have to be worse
than risking the highway
one last time
surely
that would have to be much much worse
stay
and watch the next set of possibilities
arise
and fall away
what have you got to lose
but everything
piece by piece
everything
day by day
Lost Coin
My dad's grave gets no maintenance at the Veterans Cemetery. It sits out flat white in the red dust and hot Sangre de Cristo winds. In winter you can't even find it in the blue banks of snow. You go kicking around through powder as though searching for lost coins. Your hands get red and numb, digging. Your breath grows short from the altitude. You end up drinking.
Once, a flaming young Spanish woman came right up to me in a bar and simply declared that her grandfather, Filiberto Lujan, occupied the grave right next to my father's. She quickly vanished before I could fall in love.
Circling
Sitting here. Watching my heart pump in my right ankle. Bump, bump. Next door, a woman cackles madly. Entertaining her children. Making up crazy voices. Changing faces. She runs from room to room. The kids are going nuts trying to catch her.
You circle all around your life, but do you find it? You circle from above. Like a hawk. Below the ozone. Looking down. On the hunt. From Pecos to Healdsburg. Carlsbad to Reno. Do you find it?
Sitting here in a straight-backed chair. Staring down. Pump, pump. Looking just like the same panicked kid from your Duarte yearbook. The year you never graduated. Am I looking? Am I seeing this? The sun lighting up my naked leg. Wrinkled veins. All the coarse hairs swirling around my red horse scars. Battles. Knives and guns. The kids next door. Screaming. Can't tell if they're happy or scared.
You circle all around your life, but do you find it?
there's a man in a pay phone
dramatically lit
he's saving himself
for his last cigarette
his face changes color