The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Long ago drive

Once I drove seven hundred miles
across the pocked face of Nevada
having slept one hour in two nights.
My mind wandered and I sang and swerved,
drifting off--
the mirrored brine pools along I-15
reflected splintery fenceposts and
halfcircle culverts,
this lone pickup truck sailing like a swan
over a translucent asphalt lake.
All of it a vision, swirling and hazed,
the open road and the shoulder and the median
and some direction, some driving westward;
I don't remember much of it.
I'm lucky I survived.
That salted and mountained landscape,
reeling me in over its sagebrush and juniper
in a dream,
with some semblance of destination.

--- ---

Just some thoughts and reflections on the craziest long drive I've ever done, Provo to Placerville when I had only slept one hour in the last two nights. I was asleep before I passed the Kennecott smokestack.


Amy Beatty said...

Your near death sounds so pretty. Glad you are alive too. xo

moonshinejunkyard said...

i agree with amy. the hazy confusion of it all becomes weirdly beautiful, i love the brine pools and the pocked face and the junipers and how it is "some direction." now i want to know WHY??!

mattbeatty said...

Pretty sure it was just coming home for christmas vacation or something, after the fall semester had ended. Nothing spectacular, but it was necessary that I get home.

Reluctant Conquistador said...

Typical Chewie: Poetic-Sleep-Pusher. Remember Boston-Concert-Roamers?

mattbeatty said...

Definitely I do. I think we need a return to form.