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A DREAM OF YOU,
Part III, Desert Vision,
A Poem in Three Parts
I remember Central Avenue, Phoenix, Arizona,
Danny’s store packed with Native American silver,
Bracelets, necklaces and rings, properly displayed
On racks, in trays, locked within
Glass enclosed showcases, on clear shelves,
The velvet pads, the array of colors, Alexander,
My son, maybe eight, but not more than ten,
His years of age, playing behind the counters,
Next to the shotguns, diagonally propped,
On the floor twelve-gauge shells in open boxes,
Should there be need for extended engagement.
I share with you the times when, flying in
From Dallas, the grand noise, engines’ reversal
To land at Sky Harbor, the ground crew,
How they scrambled, and then, rolled up the staircase,
The platform for debarkation, and me, I would descend
The steps full-tilt straight onto the tarmac,
Fahrenheit, ninety-five degrees in early morning,
A rental car awaited me, and I was off
Over to the parking lot at the Dog Track,
To the swap meet that was unfolding and I sought
The cowboy named, Roadrunner, who always had
Tons of loot, the goods, every Sunday’s hauls.
Though at his point, it all seems dream-like,
I recall the very special meeting, when traders
Lined up, raised hands, and one after the other,
Volunteered to say that jewelry great here and
Proclaimed that whosoever is welcomed into
The lounge camper, who greets the Navajo,
Both the man and wife, eyes at slight, diverted,
Who knows the children and divines a pattern,
From their running across the gravel lot, left and right,
Up and down, then unto the asphalt sidewalk,
Who enjoys when they stop to refresh from
The water-cooled, stainless steel, floor-pedal fountain,
That bright sparkling, that eye of the desert,
The stream which gushed upward, next to,
It was on the right side of the pari-mutuel windows.
Upon those persons, who bore witness to the design,
Who abstracted the anagram from behind
The children’s scurry, who traced,
Out upon the open parking space, meaning,
Those, who were brought to new vision,
Sight seen within the minds’ eye, the dance,
The dance holy ones once danced in godly regalia,
Those, who heard within the children’s feet the drums,
The rhythms ancestors had orchestrated
So to let go, leave this material world,
And find entrance to separate reality,
The traders at the meeting, in-order, one-by-one,
Called upon Great Spirit to sanctify their decision,
They bestowed their most precious title,
And among the ghosts and the human beings
One word cemented the union, ‘Friend’.
One Sunday afternoon, I felt good magic
When a child ran up behind me,
He quickly, then, touched the back of my hand.
Later I went up to South Mountain to the home
Of a Mexican. It was painted a distinctive blue.
I bought more jewelry and got into my car,
I took the Express Way North, exited at Bell Road,
And headed to way out West of the city.
At one point, I passed the shopping mall,
I thought about Monday’s appointments,
How a salesman's lot means he sits,
Marks time to wait his turn with buyers.
That night on the concrete patio, the one surrounding
The big swimming pool, at Community Center,
I buck danced to beat, which played
On the rock an’ roll, radio station.
Although it was already that Sunday’s dusk,
And the day’s high temperature had receded,
It still was ninety, over ninety degrees while I sat back
On the lounge chairs and watched Alexander,
Time and again, practice dives off the high board.
Even then, it was long ago, and in Phoenix,
It was you! Darling, I had been waiting for you;
The desert air brought dream of you,
The shimmering, the uplifts, the vertical lines,
Up, upward, shafts of heat rising
Out across the desert vista,
Now I know it, a dream of you and the vision,
My verse racing, galloping through my mind,
Sat at the tip, the tip of my tongue,
I was reciting poetry, not out loud, but to myself,
Though I knew not its power, no idea the prophecy,
I knew not the meaning of that woman,
Who walked out among the columns of earth fever,
And stood next to the Saguaros, in the twilight,
Who I saw for a moment out on horizon,
Seemingly, over and against the floor of the desert,
Before she disappeared leaving me to these lines,
Whose cadences I repeat at key board,
These words I use to describe a dream of you.
Long before I had ever made your actual acquaintance,
A figure in landscape,
I saw her in time prior to when you were born.
At the airport, when security stopped me, I stood
In a booth whose sliding curtains dropped to the floor,
The jewelry I carried, x ray showed
A concentrated jumble of metal, my carry-on bag,
It must needs be opened and inspected.
In that booth, halted before my return to New York City,
That was the moment, the time I began to wonder,
(I tell this event, though it occurred decades ago,
It remains fresh today, as if it were yesterday.)
I began to wonder, when you, when your love might
Saunter in and make my life complete.
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