and wield a stainless instrument
that hurts so good it hurts us both
and leaves scars we’ll share in secret
like the dark side of the moon.
I-10 Mirage
By Carl Palmer
no trees no traffic just this ruler straight
interstate leading to a blue mountain
range floating beyond the far horizon
silver lakes evaporate at our approach
seas ahead completely covering the road
retreat in the heat before we can arrive
deserted ancient ocean sand not even damp
another oasis appears draws us never nearer
to ever distant mountains in the western sky