a poem by Lauren Tivey (2 of 2)
in the terra cotta Arizona landscape,
with the buzzards and cacti. The sun
messes with my head. A battered
highway haze. How many bad horror
movies have started this way? I think,
as a cowboy boot emerges, then another.
echo off pavement; crooked desert in a silver belt
buckle, spinning sky, tight fist of my heart--and then
a rich drawl washes over me. A scroungy mutt bobs
relax. Rattling down the road to the gas station, the dog
kisses me, over and over, as the man smiles--as if
he's done this before, as if this were a good, safe world.