ANOTHER LAST NIGHT

the dogs of night get a new growl when backdoor clubs fill with evening voices   dancers sway rhythmically within clouds of smoke   lipstick numbers appear on napkins when approving eyes catch a glance   yesterdays salted wounds disappear as morning stretches over empty streets

WHICH WAY

Dogs barking, children in an abandoned lot.  Their game interrupted by a dispute. Small towns hold its players close, leaving little room to maneuver away from the center.  Girls look at magazines, shopping for images. Young men sweat with strength, struggling with self as they search beyond the package of where they are.  An old … More WHICH WAY

LAST CALL

There was a final call for last drinks at the Black Cactus Cantina, a place comfortable in the shadows. It was another night of switchblades, leather boots and lies with smiles.  Warm desert winds and roaming lizards stir night sands.   Women with showy names and men without truth move through the door to outside. … More LAST CALL