I came here for what now?
an earth-sprung desert toll booth
lemme whomp us a rat.
all the baby blue sky you can lasso the very life-breath of freedom. no more than a hot an a cot perhaps now but I I wait for you to wish after more, to work with me, not swipe my yesterdays. but i am tired now,you’ve waited past my braver dreams.
I see in my mind a cister against a windwill clanking up well over 500 gallons of water an acre. I se a terrace of sedate century plants for the shed. perhaps you’ll see youre way clear to get us some salasa in? I see so many days whe nothing can stop us from putting in another cistern to make us a fountain to rival the spas of rome. however I wonder which of us wants after the kiln – you or I?but what will it matter when the breath, freedom rocks a shaded hammock. everywhere you might see failure for it isn’t store bought but ours and of no more or less soul that we tossed in that particular day.we know much of the magic money won’t come of humility but a kind of kitch, savvy saying said in paint pretty across their new coffee mug or her goddess symbol slapped across a mortar with a ruder shaped pestle – yes, imagine her glee making grandmommy some rudely fresh salsa- it’s rather silly the dreams of the young and the freedom of the to bestow a raised eyebrow.
while we wait for each age to come in? will you help make some stew? yes that can of burn diablo dark. its for black chicken mole. it goes good with coffee. by next week if you want we’ll have a grill to entertain your friends. they can have the house…toll booth you say, shall we charge rent? nevermind, there is a coverlet that if you’ll help me heat these rock to tempt our less friendly critters away from us we’ll sleep under the stories you pluck us from the stars. we can have a working tub by lunch time tomorrow. any dream sve stealing mine you’d like.