she had come down from Gunnison
it had been a hard ride
thin air refusing to support her
old shoes raised and popped needed to be thrown away as soon as possible
~
met for drinks at The Last Chance
she told me brief stories
life in the wilderness
ways of ghosts and proud flesh
we booked a room from the man who wore the star
~
make believe log cabins
steel spring mattress
Jim Beam on the bed side
we smoke silent shapes up at an invisible ceiling in the dark
I was happy to be there
thought she was too
~
but somewhere after moon light
she had gotten up
knelt by the drifty window
to whatever she prayed all i could make out was –
How long my own unfitting skin is the night?
