Remember the Sun Drunk Things

twenty two.

It was raining in Los Angeles

The world was pooling at our feet

Desert people crowded under

Black umbrellas crowded under

Smoky sulfur lights strung over 

River shining streets

And it was all too close --

Too real.

I remembered dream-like

Desert walking

In silver sun 

And restless air, thick and swaying 

Chanting desert things

And running my palms over 

Gently scratching cacti needles

Taunting vultures with the blood throbbing at my

Bones

And following scorpions into the sand

I remembered the absence of 

So much close 

Much real and

Rain

Even before --

My youth-rushed insane 

Those brave uncalled for battle cries

That claw their way from child lips

That beckon to the beasts

Behind the clothes and toys

That beckon 

"Bring the sky to me"

"Bring the rain --

To me"

They catch it on their tongues,
The remaining

Brave young sun-drunk things

Emerge from pink-glow night light rooms

Emerge in patterned gowns

Break down grey drowned ruins 
 In fumbling hands 
They take, they make play grounds 

I think they left the desert

Long before I noticed 

Now and now I am aware

Of my own sky-soaked sleeves