Taylor Graham Poet Free verse

In Search of Solemint

A canyon junction west of Soledad
and south of Mint (named for purple sage) –
this scoured maze of Canyon Country 
where I rode bareback 
down arroyos, leaving hoofprints in sand. 

Today, I’ll stop at the general store – 
does it still sell bubble gum and dry goods? 
Recollection is so fuzzy in 9th grade. 
Who cares for canyons 
on the late-bus under stars? 

Today, my map shows no way 
to get there. Everything’s re-engineered, 
highway widened for commuters; 
interchanges. Do canyons still exist 
under terraced multi-something homes 

and quick stops? Where is Solemint?
Next off-ramp, I’ll drive
to the end of the road. Walk 
till I find sand unbulldozed, eroding 
like time. 

I’ll listen for birds in the arroyo, 
a promise of water. I’ll climb higher 
and look for purple sage. Sniff
deeply. I’ll feel cold wind off the passes.
Can I still taste Solemint?

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