Crossroads

Nightfall contained pitch-thick air of desert
though muted nightlights glistened above
no light made its way through the doorless opening
into the adobe pueblo with earthen floors
floors to sit, fitfully sleep upon
ample water from a nearby well

Daylight hours spent in town
daughter perched on hip
husband’s eyes hawk-like from a distance
as we pulled manna from the hearts of tourists
for formula, diapers, food
enough to gas the psychedelic painted van
bartered for in Colorado the month before

Barely into my seventeenth-year
on the sly with Army-deserter husband    
who hid beneath a dark-haired wig
tied with rawhide band at his forehead
Our hungry daughter
whose bottom prickled with rash
that year outside of Taos

Summer heat brought happy diversions
shared with brightly clad wanderers
whose long hair, beads, bandanas
colored my world
as they trickled eastward
toward rumors of days and nights
filled with free-love, music

We stayed on
unable to follow the dreamers
Our young family
pressed further into earth
that summer of ‘69
battling survival and dysentery
against colorless New Mexico backdrop
under shadow of fading youth

©2005 Cynthia L. Bryant