25 April 2008. Golden light, moving into May...an infused redolence, without explanatin, without excuse. Light through west window, fig trees and olives, zig-zag roofs, trailer parks and RVs, moderato version of the wild west. A truck stop or canteen--or maybe a saloon, as in El Centro, once, where Aunt Sis and Uncle Mac ran their bar--high dark interior light, mahogany counter running forever to your right, last night's drinks still tinting the noon-time air. Thanksgiving day--a family affair, the Pontiac station wagon--a Super Chief Safari (maybe not)--across miles of desert scrub. Borax plants and Brawley, Calexico to the south--a chilled Greyhound, some years later, en route, en route...
Mexicali, Nogales, BenjamÃn Hill...
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