Crossing the Desert

Through the window, the soft rise
Of hip and curve, the desert is
Laid out before me like a plain
And naked woman. Freckled with sagebrush
Endless and warm in any direction
From Winnemucca. The blue-gray line
Leading me away takes me to less
Safe roads, unending compromise
Eye-shadow and mascara
Through tinted sun glasses, a flash
A flicker of silver--the last Indian
Signal or an unidentified object. Flying
Lithe ghosts pile up here
Like discards at a dump
And stillness like sand
Or dust that once danced
To an all-night band
I cross with the windows rolled up
Exceeding the speed limit
Turning the radio up to loud
Driving all night in search of sunrise
By the road, bits of fur and bone
Pock-marks on the smooth surface
Jack-rabbits, blinded by the light monsters
Whirling by, smashing without a glance
(Build an underground tunnel. Hire an escort)
Protected by manifold, metal and glass
I get the idea, without the heat, cold, gritty sand
Impressions fly by, retreat
Over the rise in the rear-view window.

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