same old song

not sure what it is, but i've urge.

it's more like a compulsion.

not like one of those -- wash my hands 346 times a day, pull out my eyelashes on the regular, or any of that boring crap.

and i can't really explain it, perhaps it deals with my time in the desert.

those years.

nights, days, watching a red, red sunrise and the cold morning steaming up, drying the sand, and lizards sunning and tortoise roaming.

i dunno.

but i can remember Kuwati morns -- all that sand and desolation.

straight outa Lawrence of Arabia.

but that's not really the desert i dig.

i like that California/Arizona/New Mexico desert.

the Salton Sea and Niland.

outskirts of the Grand Canyon and Albuquerque.

with the wayward retirees and lanky dogs on porches.

wide, way open spaces alone.

mountain ranges with hidden springs, cattails and a few errant tires.

shotgun shells cracking in the sun.

bones of some lost goat or sheep, white with giant warrior ants on patrol.

strange how most people call that hell.

most everyone i know.

you gotta be careful out there -- sexual sadists and pedo's like the anonymity.

but mostly old folks, heating up their bones.

although you'll run into a few Vets -- ancient with nothing to prove, content in the warm sun, a pistol on their hip, pooch on porch, and a baked chicken dinner.

strange world, lots of nooks and crannies.

the good ole desert...