Ode to High Sierra

The heat.

Shifting, sweating

the beauty of attention

the succulence of dance.

Late night lights

moonbirth pines.

Scorched grass becomes a sudden soft carpet

for dirty sweet feet

gyrating patterns beneath sweet hot bodies.

The mornings started with shock:

such bright sun for tender eyes

your strong dance now soft and tired.

These human raisins soaking up precious water

to begin the day once more, with:

wigs, sequins, fishnets, booties and boobies.

Juicy grape mamas letting loose with their browned honey men.

Beer and merriment spill forth the hot paths in the late afternoon.

Surprise hammock for two, last morning with three

you went and left your musical say.

Soon, only the pines will sing in the night quiet.

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