no more
blasted rock in the water
where i let my feet swill in cold
before i landed a date with a Persian doctor
which was a year ago

no more hiding vodka
with some weird woman
as we walked to a campsite due east
and tried to start a fire in the frost

my boots fit in the gravel and crunched
i had too many whirls gyrating around my open head
and when i got back to a locked door
these felt like the settling
of some oft forgotten wound
as the wind played with chill
across the scattered lines of my open face
there were the old emotions
where i had buried my heart
in ancient mystiques
like some bedraggled coyote
attempting a rest
in a snowed out desert

carved into my mail
were odd old skeletons
and a few femurs danced
in obvious white
and poor yellow