some notes for Last Sunday

Apache glitter, 7000 feet above the sea, neal fallon screams clutch songs along the roads to nowhere, memories, thoughts, anger late mornings, too little bitterness, trapped in the desert air, wanting something else, not there, not here, sleep to appreciate the passing native lands, two dollars down to nothing, fifteen cents, but the machines won’t take change, green sea side quests crushing membranes through browns and greens blanketed with the harshest blues. No life in the barren sun soaked high desert valleys of the southwest, dreaming north shores , northwest, yippies squaking to better greendom, beliving analogies, with credit, with loans, with percentage rates, trust funds, 401ks, mutual, health care, rebel against the mainstream, in there new shiny diamond plated mainstream, white as white
Picks packed, front seat trio’s, dine grand children left to a chevy playground, elders waste away there federal aid to nowhere games, in nowhere casionos of apache glitter.
Just north as neal takes further away from anywhere haliburton sounds good to upcoming Christmas trees.

Neal fallon screams our way through seas of sage as the locals to nothing was e away there pocket change, I can’t shake my hate and anger for where I am, listening to anthems of where I’m fro, asking why


Rocks jet through the sky from seas of sage and dusty desert, arid lands of native myths games of cowboys and Indians livfe on amongst the dust and brush, landscape breaks with endless roads, dashed with ttanks and pipes, digging into the earth, sucking and filling and sucking and filling, empty nothing for hours and hours from anything near, lands of nothing in the wind, grass brown dirt blows with the trucks on the open road.

Neal fallon screams along alien landscapes far from the rivers and oceans we all once shared, no estranged twenty three hundred this way seven thousand another, up and above looking down on nothing familiar, sudden silvers and grey sling from endless brown with dots of green, a tuff green a green with no water, a green against the wind, a green battling the brown, wayning , wanting to give in but just not enough, a green of danger among dull blue patchy field s of sage
Café escrito, no doors, no windows, no gas for days that weave into weks and months and years becoming the past, shacks stand on land never wanted, nbot now, not then, not later,

Too much car, too much truck, never enough clutch, miles, hours, from anywhere at all, life lives, breaths apache casinoa, cash in the earth, cigarettes in tents, neal fallon screams across roads to nowhere, quick uturn, the head west past the café Escito, no lunch today for many days of many decades, just steel shacks, no ins, or outs, window look upon days gone by, thirty, forty back tail swings, dead ended tanker in fields of sage, seven thousasnd go hire, round and round a trail of dust, go higher. Up and up and bam, like a ton of bricks, to the west to the east, cowboy dreams of mexico and Indians, booty under tredes bad mans in band lands, sage brush and burritios, greens challenge browns, along graying b lues now all beaten by vista views.