Night Rider

Night Rider I was riding around a pan- handle flat landscape and as far as I could see it had millions of coffins, some expensive others looked home-made. The sun was forever going down but threw rays on white clouds making them pink as a ballet dress on a girl painted by Edgar Degas the ground was covered with sheets of black plastic which undulated slightly in the mild zephyr. The horse’s hoofs made holes in the plastic and up sprung bushes that for long had been living in darkness; they were pale now but would soon be greening by the setting sun. I came to a small town where houses had false facades to make them look imposing walked into a bar were Hollywood actors was shooting each other take after take. I found a bath-house after stabling my horse and in the tub dreamt of crisscrossing this landscape of death till it became green again hiding the coffins, perhaps then the night would be full of stars and the sun that arose from the east