February 13 by The Running Son
through wine country°
in 64 the boys all went east
to meditate with levitators.
in 65 our van toppled like a wedding cake
and we found our selves in the napa dusk
and stomped the rich undergrowth
and kissed deep in the crisp coastal redwoods
trespassing on everything we wanted, and how
we lost our wet ways and locked eyes like ninjas,
two american ninjas breathless on the cusp
of a private reserve, a coating for the miles
there at the wide slow delta of the russian,
at lands-end, our final sun rim setting
pacific red westerly, me and you
cold war warriors warm feathered flying
democratic on an easterly course together
route 66 or bust.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.