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near santa fe
along the new mexico two-lane
my stomach threw itself apart in five pieces:

1: nostalgic monster
2: murder evaluation
3: hippie drunk
4: naive lunatic
5: generic whore

just then i saw the late, late hour and panicked
the evening stars fell down my pants
brushed your hands aside
but i gulped in your
white face

this is a big problem, i admit
everyone says so
(this is why
drugs are useful)

then, a massive storm:
dream-home blueprints fell out of the metal-bell clouds
each inch and foot exploding against the rusty dirt
my bony feet slipping on pebbles,
which is not as funny as it sounds,
although i am sure it is somewhat
funny

i’m never going to be there, am i?

a dramatic clone
abused and alive
thinking of your swollen curves
slumped across a computer screen

again, along the same highway
which lays itself along rural new mexico
with so many veins to the small red towns
each road is stroked
by a brush wetted with
salt
iron

now, memory is desert rocks
rocks just don’t care

i’m gonna wreck you in my dreams
every single night
you can’t stop me

the cranes and machines chopping
until there is nothing left
but the foundation:
my stomach
an empty
thing

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Text and Images © Andrew Auten – All Rights Reserved