scary wild freaky ride

we rode our minibikes out too far
almost to the rub al-khali and less than half a tank left
near where i went over the cliff and burned my leg
in the middle of the sand was a one-room house
smelling like goats and urine
we were ecstatic
roaming patrols soon discovered a vast
world of sheet metal ducting
a hundred chrome-bright rectangles lying in a tumble
we were rich
we had to walk part of the way back and
after that carried a spare gas tank
we played war in the house, and dragged ducting
back to the south compound fields near
skull hill, which was covered in oil slag
back by the abandoned sewer line there
was a dead goat who became an astonishing
patch of green grass for awhile
we piled some ducting into one of the sewer access ports
tires, two by fours and gasoline
the flames could be seen for miles and the smoke
much further than that
i got whipped with a light brown leather texas belt
nice cattle-drive motif worked into the leather
then came a period when we built forts, designed desert
waterways with a hose out in the field, and kept
scarabs in matchboxes
until they died i am so sorry for that
all the kids began to play king arthur
with swords made out of stripped palm fronds
and plastic coffee-can lids for hilts
rolling down the big hill inside giant cable spools
we’d found and knocked a few slats out of the core
one kid fit perfectly
we were brave and invincible
full of the glory of endless desert
in our strange little house
michelle my belle playing havoc
with our ten-year-old and romantic hearts
i think everyone has a place gone forever

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