Lonesome highway blues,
eyes itch, head aches after a midnight run.

Rickety van ambles on 
from my confinement before the reaper came.

Interstate highway west,
creative life blood, soother of my soul.

Sitting on a bench
the last stop before Wyoming emptiness.

She sat betraying sadness
only the poet knows, only the poet suffers.

Paisley gypsy dress
long blond dirty hair hanging to taut waist.

“A rIde mister?”
a voice asked, no words spoken.

Her soul and backpack
fell onto my raggedy salvation mattress,

Already asleep
with dreams of a sage desert plain.

We danced a song
on Medicine Bow Peak at the dawn of life.

I dropped the sacred crystal
into the magic cairn for a pagan mountain god.

She smiled her approval
with a heart kiss from smiling Hera

An eagle flies circles
above prayer flags fluttering in still air.

A wolf pup howls for its mother.