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J. R. Forman
Meeting Where The Two Deserts Kiss
tomorrow when we meet
your coat will still be damp
with eastern rain—from where
I ride the poppies sleep
unbloomed—will the monsoons
fly south another year?—
we’ll talk and talk—for once
I’ll cheers and tip my flask
with more than shadow—though
the moon’s a jealous god
who will not let me rest
beside your pad—she’ll stare
full eyed all night because
we did not hide beneath
the Arizona oak—
my horse by morning like
a sail will disappear
on waves of dawn—you’ll see
horizon and the Pecos
flowing toward the sky—
between our meeting now
and next the ten year flood
will rise—you may not find
again this face—the days
imprint my brow and pass
the way the rain serrates
the dry arroyo sand
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