So, I go to the local gas station/liquor store.
And I’m wearing a cap with an elm tree as the logo
and a tie dye Indonesian number with a pocket
(because a man needs pockets).
And I ask for a map.
After peeking at it, they inform me it’s not for sale.
I hand it back to them.
As I am leaving, the big dude at the register asks me
“Are you sure you aren’t a hit man, casing the area?”
I answer, “Do I look like a hit man to you?”
“Those are the most dangerous ones.” he says with a smile.
There’s a line in the hillside that
they all scamper along.
A coyote ran through the gully,
quick and quiet.
Racing to who knows where.
The cicada sing like pouring rain.
It’s a pulse and within that pulse is a larger wave.
One song of courtship,
the other to mate when she has chosen him.