Ride with me amigo
Ride with me my last known friend
and leave the directory behind,
no need to remember the numbers.
Just saddle up and buy us two sombreros.
The sun will burn hard, scorching persistent
memories: leaving us to it’s unrelenting mercies.
Into a desert together meandering aimlessly we will
ride, whistling tunes from the Saturday morning
pictures we saw at the cinema when we were boys
and looked at the arrows and gunshots skirting past
the rocks after the men visited the saloons where
powdered women shone from their lipstick as their
tassels waved above the fishnets. You and me alone
(wistful) in the desert storms oblivious to where we
wander, leaving the high roads we could not see and
the alleys beckoning to our youth. Just pack some
bottles of whatever so we can maybe hide again.
Michael Martinez 2021