I hear people singing. I think it’s coming from the church near his place. I went to see him today, to tell him something. Say it face-to-face. But as I walked up the gravel drive toward his house he stepped off the porch and drew back the hammer on his gun. That’s why I’m here. Because I know what he’s going to do. Sometimes a thing happens and there is no one to tell how it really happened besides you. And you can’t convince anyone that it happened like it did. That it isn’t your fault. That’s just life, I guess. I can hear the singing more clearly. It makes me less afraid of what’s going to happen now.
Photo of "The Swallow" taken in Albuquerque, NM. Photo of "Turquoise Trail Market" taken in Cedar Crest, NM.