on the plaza of Santa Fe

i talked with an Indian selling jewelry on the plaza of central Santa Fe
near his heart were hammered silver pieces and colors of turquoise
his pueblo memories of younger girls and boys
stirred a feather as i watched the old winds blow
soon new sign posts pointed to which way i might now go
and down a mile long canyon road where buffaloes still roam
i found a rattlesnake woman sleeping underneath an old oak tree
by her side was a postcard which she handed to me
and a large tarantula with black legs full of desert hair
it was only for a moment that i questioned what it was doing there
but spiders don't contemplate and they certainly don't speak
and i was already on the high road for more than a week
sitting on the tiny balcony with a croissant and a history book
where i read the first chapter and became angry about a current war
i dreamed of traveling to the ancient Mediterranean shore
between bites of a raspberry and lime tart
i finally looked at my watch and knew it was time to start
so away i went
in a hot air balloon with a spicy bowl of green chili
to follow the Rio Grande river whenever it grew hilly
and into the wilds of an artistic town where an old tomb stone
hardened by the past released a sad and mournful moan
i tried to find an historic hotel close by highway ten
but a thin mountain lion and a hungry black bear
slowed my progress and implored me to share
and that's just what i did in the basement of the Gopher Hole bar
sipping tequila from a Mexican mason jar
two cups of morning coffee followed by a day long drive
with a little paper map to help me safely arrive.
the vigilant highway cops just stood around and waved
they couldn't know it had been weeks since i last shaved
i removed my running shoes
which i donated to the local Good Will.

a second week

you're not my mother
not my little brother
yet so much more than a fish i met
my favorite pet
is not a dog or a friendly cat
more than a this or a silly that
i feel you are looking my way
leaning in for what i might have to say
but the great books have all been read
i thought about what you ultimately said
when the afternoon winds began to form
i walked outside into the gathering storm
you sat on an easy chair
a homemade granola bar with hiker's hair,
water bottle and apple core,
i should have stopped but wanted more.
an unexpected rain took your sandals away
i wondered if i'd have to pay
for my best effort to get a peek?
i could get lost for a second week!!

you won't think about me tomorrow

you never see me for who i am
my blue eyes could be hopelessly red
you might not miss me
even when i'm long gone and dead
i'll be so far away
you won't think about me tomorrow or today
we pass in front of an open door
you don't kiss me anymore
all the days i thought forever would remain
you don't remember my name
when i walk i no longer hear you talk
when you laugh i hear myself cry
there must be an answer but i can't figure out why
my hands reach to touch you
they find nothing solid and pass straight through
there is thin air
once we had each other and now there's nothing there
you never see me for who i am
my blue eyes could be hopelessly red
you might not miss me
even when i'm long gone and dead