January 1, 2012


They all say this road
will take you west,
to an ocean filling
your windshield,
then you can go south
or north, settle in one
spot.  But they never
talk about the vast desert,
its dry east wind, blowing
hot through nights
and down canyons
when dawn escapes me,
every little sound
driving us toward the sea,
looking, finally, for a way
back, knowing the road
is no longer there,
having faded into sand,
becoming a myth,
like the god we left
behind, or rumors
of somewhere
water waiting.