Chapter Seven

She Comes in Colors

The dead desert is myth. It lives, it breathes, it's alive with color and critters that skitter.
Ochre orgasms drip from the high thigh skies, rainbows arch and frame the southwest, painting the lunar landscape with primary colors..sunsets, orange and rusting in the empty spaces in between abodes of adobe
The bleached white of a Meditteranean mission jesus on a crucifix in the church of San Zen..
the sky, azure, I assure you, is vibrant with whipped cream clouds of kahlua consistency, jet stream trails and turquoise laughter,
charcoal briquets of blazing mesquite fired with the hot rocks of the devils own eyes, create the red and green of christmas chili..
the rocks of red, canyons and arroyos in muddy rio swirls, caked hard as cement when dry,
light chocolate skins adorned with soft sandy shells, brown bare feet kicking up brown bare dirt,
smokey old white haired mountains rising above negro colored fields of lava flows, ancient and old…
tops blown off. grass and trees adding their colors of life to the harsh barren sides and
images of black and white..grey, now suspended in the mind riddled by a machine gun firing armor piercing stars as bullets to rip the flesh, meteors and comets racing through the void..looking to call attention to our deception and perception of reality..fade to black of night...the colors hide until sunrise…colors can be deceiving when hidden in a cloak of darkness.

CHAPTER EIGHT - GREYHOUNDS FROM HELL