downshifting up Ranger Hill
the west opens wide
like a girl who can’t say “no”
because she’s not that pretty
but you don’t really know her yet
keep driving even though you’re unsure
and haven’t seen a speed limit sign since
you don’t know when
this is Texas
it gets so hot that it rains devils
asphalt like a bowie knife cuts through crisp grassland
all the way to Monahans
strange sands
where I once spoke the names of my enemies
spit in a bottle
and buried it deep
my favorite color is west
is sky the size of God
is rusty barbed wire
is the blur of heat on the horizon
pecos peppered desert
gang banged by oilfield pumps
right next to wallflower wind farms
left unloved by the breeze
all dressed up and no wind to blow
the lone star above scorches everything
dry and lonely
even the ground separates from itself
leaving cracks so deep
that dogs fall in
this place will kiss you like a cactus
but thank God it doesn’t embrace
it knows it’s a cactus
so it spreads out
and dares you