Chinati

Chinati Out there, in the twilight The furthest peak of the nearest horizon a cold outline, silent but more to feast the eyes on Than a feast of fried eggs and bacon. When, with what fades with each morning and holds my gaze with days closing, calls out to me from that afar, I'll question such drifting. Question living for turning on a dime and riding days and weeks, arriving penniless and spent, without two cents to lend and only my own hat to eat; While always looking back, towards Chinati. Yet, at night while I sleep It cleverly holds care To only pester me politely, and not follow too close behind me lest it pulls me from my tent at night and I wake up there Thinking I'm dreaming.