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Popping in the sun the Arizona lizards sizzled along highways in desert dust.  A walk along cactus Joes saloon 1865 was the year of the canyon riders. The riders were awkward ghosts of yesterdays most prestigious gentlemen.

The showered in their sweat and road from dusk till dawn.  Fantasies fizzled in the mountain horizon and realities were born from mirages.

"Pass the pump."

"I'm paying for your gas?"

"Fill her up Ned."

"Neds dead."

"Stop joking around its almost nightfall and the vuolchers are waiting for someone to devour."

"Call me Tom Kasey."

"Mother trucker."

"Mamas trailer is right up the way."

"Nope not going let her see me this way."

The hot summer built a sand storm and left no survivors. Just Ned who got away."
There wasn't a ghost in towncwuo could ride like Ned a desert storm and dance with the lightening rods.

The wild sky dived deep into the night. Lola has no hot water to cook with or shower. Yet a carton of cigarettes fully stocked and smut magazines were greatly invested in at her trailer.

Define who you are by who you are nothing else.  To lose is a loss.  A loss is only a loss when youet it be a loss.  The treasure remains waiting for your truth. Or give the. The truth.