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Note:on a motorcycle made of smoke and grease

on a motorcycle made of smoke and grease
i roll the desert flat below me
onto the little hacienda 
40 miles from guadalaraja
stars pinpricking my eyes
like city lights, ever distant
heading to the big dance, never 
getting past the interstate.
the revrevrev slowly dies
and silently *crash::
followed by vapor explosions
screendoored and rusty hinged
a pile of mud stands before me
windowed eyes and red dust roof, 
and the lights inside are warm heaven
in the frozen hell of sand and sky
"hola senor, what can i bring you?"

I'm looking for cassidy.
"oh we have plenty cassidy,
this one runs at 30times the speed 
of thought,
its got a tendency to overheat
take this tequila to cool him down"

What about that one
::finger pointing to a stone cold crazy
swinging hammer arcing fast::
"left by some gringos just yesterday,
let me tell you 
i give you both for 50 dollars and 
your leather jacket"

the desert's freezing amigo
"bah, wait for morning,
sun come up again, but
just incase take this one too"

a warted finger points
shelved in the back
hoboclothed it stands
a pile of wood and 
gasoline in hand

are you sure they're safe?

"amigo are fucking kidding me"