Words intertwined over a Pabst
Blue Ribbon in Green River
a game of 8-ball on balding felts
we could drive
all night if we chose to

Smoke more talk later stars
air pulled across my
wrists and through my hair
dirt road windows down
night smelling of fine red dust

Fat moon rose and bulged
throwing shadows through
canyon walls
where arches brimmed
we drove on
this is who I am
right now

Stopped didn’t need
a lantern
walked until we saw
the bright Moonflower
trumpet under a triangle
of yoked natural bridges
while the big dipper poured
through their outstretched
sandstone arms
we sang

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