frozen moon

out tonight under this frozen moon,

alley cats destroy the back porch with fire,

as this desert recoils

stares back at me bloodshot

through wasted beers.

a girl floats by using a stuttered Mexican accent

challenging me to checkers,

heart-shapes,

transparent marbles on a glass top.

we go a few rounds on the hard parched ground,

then call it a draw.

the other day some Madonna came and went out of my lonely bed of cactus.

should have gotten to know her better

but most likely any words got spooned between us again,

fearless impressive secrets

unable to pass through our hungry fingers:

why did I tell her to get lost

find her own way?

why did I show her the plane to the city?

out tonight under this frozen moon

glass holes puncture my boots,

I decide to go barefoot.

sure, one day she might remember me,

return the favor,

think of words to sour

find my ears to touch.

out tonight under the frozen moon,

empty patterns of miles cannot fill this vacuum inside,

and these ocotillo skies wash up

then sink all the way back to Sonora.

nothing can really be born,

without first dying.

Bisbee

1980

Bisbee, 1980