She shook off Caliente
one strangled afternoon
in a perfect gnash of gears;
a dirt burg south of Bakersfield
so hot Hell shunned membership
and so did she; flipped a fed-up

finger at the Mediterranean Cafe,
dried-out dive where simple sallies
ply pussy for promise and warm mescal;
they snickered behind spidery hands
as she played her crafty ass flush

on that final fuck-all score
and when the heat rose like fetid smog
she yanked it loose; scorched sand
with a stripped-down skyline
painted horizon blue and raced the devil
to Babylon in a fifty-nine Ford.


hardyf said...

great words and pics. one of those sites every once in awhile that opens up more. look forward to reading more and visiting your links.

deuddersun said...

Dam...what can I possibly say that won't sound like empty echoes of praise gone by?

You are extremely talented! After reading your work I am amaazed that you liked my blog!

I'm going to blogroll you now and I'll do a short intro post later. I know the folks in my little circle will also love what you are doing here.

Well, you have stumbled blindly into quicksand, welcome home for you are home now, in the asylum with the rest of us, freaks all and proud of it.


boneman said...

that is one fine car, though, not being a motor head and all, I would have guessed it t'be a fifty-eight.
'Course that's nothin t'do with the words y'wrote 'cept once it's movin' fast, it'll never stop; one speedy gait!
So Babylon's the destination? Is it the gardens to see? Or the food, heard it's really quite great.
OK, well, I gotta get movin' m'self, got things t'get done, folks t'see, and I sure don't wanna be late.

With Hammer And Tong...The LetterShaper said...

Thank you all for reading here! I appreciate it very much!