How long my own unfitting skin is the night? by pd lyons


9.30.14. fore by pdlyonsphoto

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?

 

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