One hot and humid July morning in ‘69
Army green duffle bag in tow
I said goodbye at the Wheeling bus station
to Mom, Dad, and Saint Clairsville, O-hi-o
Two days later
courtesy of a forty-nine-dollar, one-way Greyhound bus ticket
I found myself standing in the scorching Arizona sun, wondering who I am
Didn’t take long for my hair to grow long—
Something like Carlos Santana’s black frizzy ‘fro
For a spell, time stood still—
the desert sunsets and Sabino Canyon stole my heart away
Joe Cocker, Buffalo Springfield, the Beatle’s Abbey Road streamed live
from every open dorm room door at Yavapai Hall
Missed the Doors at Hi Corbett Field, but
I was there inhaling the Canned Heat and more that fall
Life slips by—
just like the stealthful Greyhound did
during my fifty-hour trip from Wheeling to Tucson
People appear and disappear—
just like the Beatles’ lonely people
Tucson, now a memory, lingering
alongside past loves, empty beer bottles, and faded sunsets
Makes me wonder what is next
Poetic Alchemist 