EL SOLITARIO

High noon
Zenith of the sun
The desert
Is a
Cursed land for all
But for
Solitary travelers.
The heat that rises from the earth creates ectoplasms
There is a man on a horse
And a dog at his trail.
Their feet do not touch
     The ground.
Serenity, and pride ...
The sound of many pianos ...
A butterfly born from the sun crosses my eyes ...
     Mechanically.