NEW MEXICO
Hearing the story of where I'm traveling to
A cave within a canyon I've never seen
After all of the beings walk or fly away
I find another religion that doesn't quite fit
I've been waiting to see what won't happen
Just thinking of it does not work anymore
The lover in the dream is a pickpocket
A mountain lion drawing the violet dusk
Into those relentless mountain lion lungs
Gives all of it back after a moment or two
Dancing with an animal requires disconnect
How the other half thrives without dream
Like a secret weapon forever misplaced
The uncounted small livelihoods I ignore
Like the death that's missing a functional lid
Yet depends on it like weather, like weeds
Like a deer skull topping a Christmas tree
Being wrong, the graves too high to mow
The season's prettiness always self-inflicted
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