What I desire are the red hills, the desert earth, the vanilla-scented ponderosa. I drove out into the desert and felt desire sweep over me. I walked into the hills and wanted to be with the land, to take the land, to consume it without destroying it. I wanted to walk in the heat until I passed out. I wanted to melt into it.
Come into the shade
In Vegas, where I am, in the casinos and on the street, on signs and of course in shows, are the beautifully presented bodies of soft and shiny young women. Breasts and buttocks playing peak-a-boo. And, lucky me, there are also Chippendale’s men in my hotel. Their shirtless images with half-zipped pants and dopey smiles line the walkway to the parking lot where I’ve kept my rental car.
of this red rock
And while many of these bodies look nice to the touch, what is odd to me, is that I cannot locate desire in all of the exposure or in all of the sexy dancing that takes place on stairs and boat/floats every evening in the casino. It is all so sterile that parents bring their children to see the show and see the half naked ladies and gyrating men.
there is shadow under this red rock
I’m going back out to the rocks tomorrow because they satisfy something in me. Does the simulation of desire that is Las Vegas satisfy something for anyone?
I will show you fear
I suppose that is the question.
in a handful of dust
Quotes are from T. S. Eliot