Tuesday, April 8, 2008


Black asphalt bends the summer sun into puddles and lakes

The temperature is a hundred and one in the shade

A roadrunner dines on his meal of rattlesnake

As I top the crest and the mirage begins to fade

No water on the highway and in the forecast, no rain

Cacti dot the hills and rocks of this empty arid land

Vultures march the lonely tracks, vacant of any train

Telegraph poles lean rotting crusted and carved by sand

A few miles outside of Victoria and I had been driving hours

The desert loosed its grip on the habitat of men

I saw a ten acre field filled with yellow flowers

And in the sweetness of the sight, your face appeared just then

A man can thirst for more than water when he begins to roam

The heart and soul can become a desert beneath the sickly blue

But here, this yellow field of flowers has carried me back home

To the oasis of my hopes and dreams, the smiling face of you

1 comment:

Mike said...

As always, a delight to read your work, beau.