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By chris Date: 2004 Apr 20 Comment on this Work [[2004.04.20.22.23.21083]] |
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I stand at the arroyo and watch the sun set and there are no tears left - all swallowed up into the well of the past several weeks - no more Coronas-with-lime-and-salt and Diet Cokes at Garduno's (Hemingway will always have Paris - we'll always have Garduno's, for whatever that's worth), no more pictures taken in train engines in semi-ghost towns along New Mexico backroads, no more dirt roads of Wise County, Texas in one speeding prairie moment of shared craziness and madness sublime beyond words, no more bad overpriced meals along the Riverwalk in old San Antone or watching you talk to ravens while climbing La Bajada Hill and halfway believing they were talking back. There will be no more of anything except a future as wide and as cold as this shimmering high desert city. I try like hell to feel many things toward you now. But all I can come up with is a sort of love - pretty fucking pathetic when you think about it - because it is not a love that implies marriage or sex or health insurance or shared utility bills or credit card payments or any brand of all-American bullshit for that matter - even stolen kisses in bookstore stockrooms. It is a love that implies absolutely nothing whatsoever - the only thing it was ever meant to. |