One

New Mexico solitude

Am I mad now, or is that just how I should be?  Deep inside this voice of eternal suffering, filled with inspiration big enough to fill a valley of falling hills, each collapsing onto the other, landing on top of my ‘soulish ego’. 

When the ‘juice’ hits these lips, so does the vulgar grace inside my mind.  My ‘reality’ comes crashing down, bloodying my face with kisses of clarity.

It does seem to hurt when too much is good, when art is ‘life’ and ‘life’ is easily left behind.  I could wonder out of this place just as I came in - alone. 

Or I could wait here for you. 

I could sit on that comer and hope you will come to pick up my suitcase and lonely face.  When we are driving away we can glance at each other, wondering if this is right.  But once we are gone together, as we begin to absorb all that is new and uneven on this globe, only then will we know, why we left, as one.