Found myself here:
Double track road with tall weeds in center.
Not a tire mark in sight.
Tightly wound barbed wire gates
Closed behind after passing through.
Enough to keep the cows contained and most people out.
No private property signs
Just waves of land frozen by my little view of time.
Hourglass sand.
Yellow flowers and wiry weeds.
Sagebrush dripped its dry branches, looming over a creek bed as if looking for a puddle.
A thousand eyes of nervous cows watched from afar.
A hobo camp lay in front.
A shrine of men lost to time.
A crooked outhouse.
Asses wiped with advertisements. (Stay slim and lovely with the Imperial Massage Lounge, only three dollars down.)
A floor of dirt and the ceiling of stars.
Carcasses of Dodge Brothers provided seating.
Bullet holes, bean cans, beer bottles, batteries.
Half a leather boot.
All evidence slowly rusting and sinking,
but I could see it still.
Drunken cackles penetrating the night sky,
and lost in the solemn landscape.
Ghost faces floating by the firelight.
Drippings on the stubbled chins of those lost men.
Myself leaning into the sand.
Pushing forward to keep from sinking.
Wondering where these men went,
And where I was going.