In the raw New Mexican morning
“Wichita Lineman” on the Delco
eggs and coffee at the townie cafe
all stick-figure kitchen chairs
a flag and a snowy 12-inch

Cowboy hats and thick-framed glasses
stares at the hippie kids
“The West” foreign as Bagdad
to a Bronx boy
uneasy wonder, unleashed desire
every mile, every town
every magic mountain vista
every flat forever
California to be charmed finally
from its dreamscape