the walls of Octatillo................ As the sliding glass doors closed behind him,
too many coats of varnish........I watched his back for a moment.
white bandages.........He stopped, turned around, came running back.
the holes that the woodpeckers made............"The curator is arriving any minute now.
preoccupied with the application........See if you can delay him,"
brown grass on the hills...he shouted at me through the glass doors.
the holes in the cactus........
blood stains..............I picked up the keys,
Alvarado salt river........................and put them in my pocket.
low flying planes............. a bear named Rupert............ the words that were written in the painting.... always a hot day in Arizona........ strewing meat and sauce in a wide circle........ the endless aisles of Home Depot........ the smell of the leather couch........ I could almost feel his hands..................... hand carved napkin rings......................... sopapillas...................... mustard colored tiles............... the long walk into town.................. the sound that the lizards made..............

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