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700 MILES

Miles and miles …
Of dust and tumbleweeds
Traveling along bumpy roads
Daylight headlights
In the distance
Where purple mountains’ majesty
Loom in the glorious sky
Where Nevada winds blow

They know no different …
Desert rats in a maze
Junkyards of life’s memories
That might bring someone a day’s pay
Old rusty carcasses of cars, flat tires
Naugahyde and beer bottles
Tell a tale, like the stench
Of a depressing Casino
Where people play day after day

And the RVs keep on moving …
And the smiles survive
They watch curiously and wait
Placing their bets on whether
It’s a ’60’s Bentley or Rolls.
Cautiously, yet with ease
They speak to foreigners
Too curious not to find out
Yet friendly enough
To wave hello

You say you love the desert …
The cactus and old Santa Fe tracks
With the centipede-like train
Winding its way through the hills
In the distance, cotton ball clouds
In the rear view sunset
Make their way for the moon
To hover above
And light the way in the night

Near the border …
You tell me you’re ready
For a scotch and me.
And have been all day
You drink in life’s pleasures
Caress and excite
Give and take me
Then we sleep ’till dawn
And I love to be

Around noon …
Just like you said
In the middle of nowhere
By a railroad crossing
Stands the now deserted gas station
Your quest quenched like your thirst
You wonder who took the old gas pumps
“And Chuck…he’s dead,” said the old man

Later that night at home …
Reflecting over fine red wine
You remind yourself and me
One should never go back to old times
And I think it’s so sad but true
As I look at your photograph
On the calendar
From four years before

Kristin DeAnn Gabriel, February 1989

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