must keep remembering the 14 drunk wine judges jumping on a bed the hotel had adorned their lobby with to illustrate the spaciousness and elegance of their furnishings.  

won't you meet my dog? he is very nice.. don't be alarmed. he's only taken down a couple of rabbits, three dogs, a nubian goat, two horses and my old landlord. he has now retired from an infamous life of wanton destruction and utter hedonism since my mother and i got him fake identity papers and smuggled him out of california under great stress and nervousness. he now wages major skirmishes with reptiles in an enormous yard in arizona where he sunburns his genitals repeatedly by lolling about acting like a dandy. he has a penchant for popping the skulls of skunks in his jaw and flinging their bodies around as the smell shoots out of their asses he is a good dog.  

these the tracks that would carry the flagstone laden trains from the quarry beyond the mountain that hid the mouth of a glittering, sharp toothed place where people in covered wagons perished while crossing this foreboding and aptly named, hells canyon. 

just at the opposite mouth of hell canyon stands a house built a bit past the turn of the century. being in the wild west as it stood, the occupants were fathered by a man who was probably paid very little but would rise from night in violent weather and run for the train tracks to wave down the train with a lantern and bright cloth for if the flash floods wiped out the tracks, the train would topple to the bottom of hell canyon. it was very quiet here, nothing but some old ticking and bedding, the filthy clothes of a hobo and an old meal ticket from the 50's that floated on by on a gust of air.  

...and here we see the kitchen door of the house. to the east a short way under the remains of an old and tired scrubbush lies a headstone. 

will we meet someday at the gates of a garden?  

the kid and i got in the rental car and slammed the doors and drove really fast all the way to arizona. on the way we saw a black man in a three piece suit pushing a shopping cart along highway 40 through the desert. we stopped at my favorite cemetary and paid dubious heed to the poisonous vine that grows along the borders. we were chased along by thunderstorms and huge bolts of lightening that threatened to zap us, rendering all the cells in our bodies to boiling seething masses of heat until our chests would explode- in the split blinking of an eye.