AT LAST, THIS MINK, SABLE
I never went to sleep hungry, really,
rather just ready to dream. Skiffs and
bounty hunters, distant lands and men
with guns. The grassland between all
that and my own reality was often
grown pretty high. I could walk, but
just barely see, through the weeds and
stalks. Out there, somewhere, I was
always told, the golden city loomed.
-
'Should'a know they was lyin' - and all
in wait for me. Each time it was Christmas
again, all I ever got was stuck in traffic.
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