Tuco thought about his life considered his quest, warmed himself in the gray morning air as his saddled up as he bound the trappings of his life to the pack horse as he lifted all of his hope onto the back of his paint He thought about the smoke drifting up from countless evening fires the conversations he’d held with himself with his horse, any stray man or beast that wondered into camp Tuco built up his life painted each bright moment in his mind while watching this new horizon where there were cold clouds low, dewy, close in, no view no room to move, to plan to see ahead, to know what’s coming He remembered the last time this fell upon him and how, in that fog, he found the last time he knew joy in the unknowing, in the anticipation And he remembered Arlu’s words “I don’t feel that way anymore” as she turned, as she turned away And he thought how some women you’ll always love no matter what they do He turned the paint toward the fog moved on, moved into his unmarked trail a trail with no view, no room to move, to plan to see ahead, to know what’s coming. |
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RD Savage
04/16/94 © 1994 |
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