alligator oak carved children’s table

set above this bunkhouse mesa,

draped with wet clothes

potted plants and 4 beautiful women,

nurtured by a dry drafty wind

from out back

under the Gulch's scorching sun,

Bear’s knife jabs, blusters, and intimidates

with heated open air expressions:

“I love you baby…now come clean you rah rah!”

this quirky eccentric desert casa personifies the ultimate storehouse

where nothing is wasted,

where once creative energy becomes distracted

ridin past those open windows south

onto further canyon scorched brown sands

but here, there is no reason for his apostles to step into the light,

to disclose their souls,

bestow their gifts

here, in this Brotherly Love restitched laundry,

there is this family

who drapes the walls with giraffes and scorpions,

a clan who welcomes strangers stealing shelter from some grateful rain shower,

here, a tribe of misfits,

hearts with planted smiles and sketchbook watercolor portraits

all dug in for another unsettling September summer drought

(if I had my way, nobody’s house would ever leak)

Zacateca’s Laundry, Bisbee

9/11/73