Monthly Archives: April 2011

Ranch Dressing 2

Boone swung his tired eyes around the scrim of the desert. The lacuna in his mind was not filled by the specter of the coyote in the toilet. It existed apart without meaning. No stranger than the rest of his life that had led to this moment. Still it nagged him. The kill was fresh. Not more than a few hours old. Tire tracks ran in every direction across the playa. There was no line he could follow to make sense of it. There was nothing to do but get back in the truck and keep driving. The highway was three hours away and he would be driving by headlight now. No cell phone coverage here. Nobody to call if there was. He got back in the truck started it up. The familiar throaty rumble filled the night around him enough to try and put the dead coyote in the camp toilet out of his mind.

Ranch Dressing – a Story in Serial Form (1)

Boone drove across the playa as the sun steeped the mountains behind him in tea brown twilight.
Reticules of salt crust crumbled beneath the tires of his truck making powder tracks that narrowed to thin rails behind him and vanished in the dry rind of desert.

He saw something in the playa ahead. Something as random as from a dream ran down his optic nerve jumped from behind his eyelids and set itself in his path. He slowed the truck. He blinked. Again. Again. But he could not make the thing go away. He stopped the truck, got out and walked up to the apparition now as rusted and real as the bark-like playa around it. It was an outdoor toilet like ranchers and farmers set up near cattle stations. Nothing else around it for miles in any direction. He lifted the lid. Inside was the mutilated carcass of a coyote.

To be continued…

What the Kids Say

Dad, you don’t have enough butt to wear those pants.

A hummingbird

Outside in the wisteria, the first hummingbird I’ve seen this Spring. Meanwhile, the rain has decided to go for extra innings. Sigh.

From Good to Great?

Great and good are seldom the same man.

–Winston Churchill

Literature as Carpentry

“Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry.”

— Gabriel García Márquez

Red and Green Things

tulip canopies over cafe tables
brick tail light
stop signs