3 Desert interludes

1.  Death Valley Days

I’ve been in Death Valley's
heat, have seen enormous
swarms of bees collecting
by the highways.  We
were on the way
to Bakersfield--not
for the music but
for a job that would make
us Californians.
The dry lake beds
the Joshua trees

the Tehachapi Hills,
that all rejects me.  

And you?  You've seen

it more than me—
La LLorona walking acequias
long after I left Cruces.

2.  The Upper Chihuahuan

When I left Cruces there'd
been a party for my
family. Rudy had been

driving my dad’s 1989 Pontiac

Sunbird like a wild man

to get back home to ‘Burque

in time for who knows what.

I really don’t care.  All I know

was that you were there

too, moving into your

new home in the far

suburbs out toward

the Organ Mountains.

There were boxes

of mine you threw away

You know. There were

boxes unpacked, left out

to rot in the Mesilla

valley sun.  Lots of

Spiders, black widows.

The snakes of mid-summer

cooling under your patio.

3.  High Desert, San Luis Valley

It was a rotten time in that

dry cold place, even though

we tried to plant a garden.

Neither one of us could stay

whether for the deep soaking

Rocky Mountain cold,

or the space that grew

between us like heavy

wet snow.  There were

the beginnings of temptations

dreams of escape not

only from a dreary

high desert town that

wore its sadness like

a morning robe

but from each other. I

know that.  The fact

beating like my heart.