October 26th
I walked down the western hill early today,
and saw the desert
laughing his gooseflesh
into the valley's thick hair.
I lied in the warm sand
as the breath of the juniper bushes
roared over my stomach,
and watched you comb the trees
for their loose coins.
I dozed among the mice and sagebrush
until I heard you call to the moon.
She came in tears that you would soon go,
and they fell like music
onto the mountain.
I watched as you held up your lips
to gather them from his
raised magenta eyebrows,
and got drunk.
You stumbled westward
and hailed me an early farewell.
You were too consumed
to bellow laughter
with me from a fire tonight.
I will run with you tomorrow,
all day,
and we will investigate
the new spiderwebs
and the old ices.