the walls of
Octatillo................ As the sliding glass doors to the courtyard closed,
too many coats of varnish........I watched his back for a moment.
white bandages.........He stopped, turned around, came running back.
the holes that the woodpeckers made............"The curator is
arriving any minute now.
preoccupied with the application......................See if you can delay
him,"
brown grass on the hills.........................he shouted at me through the glass
doors.
the holes in the cactus........
blood stains................................I picked up the keys,
Alvarado salt river....................and put them in my
pocket.
low flying planes.............
in the foreground
............
the words that were written in the painting....
always a hot day in Arizona........
strewing meat and sauce in a wide
circle........
the endless aisles of Home Depot........
the smell of the leather couch........
I could almost feel his hands.....................
hand carved napkin rings.........................
sopapillas......................
mustard colored tiles...............
the long walk into town..................
the sound that the lizards made..............