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July 19, 2003 Purple desert bed flight Flying God how I love to fly Face flat on a purpled desert bed Chest heaving Breathing a little softer now I close my eyes to the music And set sail on the winds of my mind. To an earlier time That first morning of a deliberately sleepless night That's me down there walking on the sand By the Pacific in the dazed light of dawn Then in a flash Unticketed Naked flight in the blink of an eye To New Hampshire To Winnesquam. I am the squall I am the waterspout whirling Twirling over the womb-like waters of endless childhood The boy me in a little boat rowing On a gold-leafed lake at dawn The sun blinding as Heaven itself The adults sleeping off hangovers inside I'm alone I'm rowing Golden, immaculate The lake simmering Steaming in the early sun I fly on. Diving now Seeing straight down the path of a train trestle leap Squatting ecstatic beneath the waters of the damn Precious in the way small things are Crouching water kid Hidden boy beneath the falls Down river from the cabin on the lake Our cabin The cabin that'll never be sold Never renovated beyond the point of recognition Home to that McKinney Dynasty A century of souls and fire-lit faces Names carved in hardwood beams Above that smoked stone fireplace Old gallant stag leaping out. God how I love to fly. In the warm wake of orgasm That sweet bonus of growing up That makes bearable So much loss. She returns now Takes me in hand and We begin again Led Zeppelin howling haunting Holding open corridors in the air Like some stereophonic Moses. And I'm airborne again Soaring In my head On our purple-sheeted Heated Desert bed.
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