6/2/00

High noon
The air – bone dry, the kind that
Sucks water from everywhere –
Moist lips an endangered species here

I’m the dust under your shoe,
The grit the color of the cancerous rust
On your Dodge Aspen

Lift your shoe,
Yes, that’s it –
Now follow me.
You, your kind, you’ll always pursue me
You are the dark side of the wind.

My future is a lump of clay
In my hands
Yet the world I live in has no fire –
My sculptures dry, crack, turn to dust
Under your feet – and you love that

I want to cry, I need to cry
But the wasteland drinks my tears
From within me

There’s a devil in this wasteland.
I’ve built my walls, I live in my fortress
I’ve seen the beast.
Have you?

The beast rides the wind,
The wind that carries me –
The wind that you follow.

Open your eyes.