5 hours in a sun so blistered
trying to hitch a ride out of Alamogordo –
pasty-faced seniors in Winnebagos for some odd reason
not trusting my long-haired bearded self –
I gave up. Called my old man
to wire me bus fare.
In Amarillo I had an hour layover,
walked the main drag at 10,
one crazy Saturday night.
All these teen angels, cruising, revving their engines,
honking their horns. Wide-eyed girls, their heads
hanging out the windows, shopping for boys.
While the boys leaned against their cars in tight Wranglers,
coolly eyeing only las chicas lindas.
Red cherries shining in their palmed hands,
surreptitious Lone Stars expertly held
under fender wells by index fingers.
Hormone levels and sexual tensions
hit all-time highs!
Just a tiny slice of Americana.
Do you really think John Adams could have conceived it thus?