out of the hills (32)

the cobalt light of nine o’clock

has nearly swallowed venus 

the day’s heat mellowed now

and soft. soft as Ruthie’s cheek

feels to the back of his hand.

-still want to do this? yeah.

Green stands on the porch

with a mug of coffee and

a soapstone pipe, blows a plume

towards the last red glow of sunset.

-want some coffee? you’re going

to need it I expect. The three sit

unspeaking, lost in plots and paths

untaken or yet to be. Green sees

Maria laughing on the bench

he carved forty years ago.

-guess we should be going now,

 to get to Bakersfield by midnight.

-drive slow, the creatures are up

 and about. respect the snakes too.

 bring the young lady back soon.

 she needs to ride a horse and

 I know just the one for her.

-Thanks, Green. For everything.

at the foot of the path to the house

they look back and see him rocking

slowly, a puff of his pipe smoke

rising to merge with the Milky Way.

a short way down the gravel

valley road, five horses watch

the car approach, five sets

of eyes reflect the headlights

with a blue white incandescence.

three bays, a black, and a pinto.

-look at that little brown and white one.

-she looks just right for you.

no cars coming or going when they

reach the highway, first pavement

they’ve been on since late morning.

Henry accelerates towards the glow

of Porterville ten miles ahead.

Orange and grapefruit orchards

crowd the road on either side, fill

the evening air with their scent

and here and there clusters of 

smudgepots waiting for the winter

frosts, point skywards like silent

fanfares of rusty trumpets.

the Ford is getting thirsty, and

soon must have a bellyful of ethyl.

Mercury’s winged foot glows blue

and yellow above a Richfield station

at a crossroads outside of town.

-We’re gonna need some gas,

 you wanna grab that blanket

 and pretend to be asleep?

 -you want me to hide under it?

-Just trying not to attract attention.

-Under a blanket on a warm night?

 Isn’t that a little strange?

-Yeah. I’ll just tell the attendant

 my girlfriend is a little strange.

-Uh huh, guess that’s better than

 my girlfriend’s a little colored.

Ruthie drapes herself in the olive drab

army surplus wool blanket and slumps

down against the door as they pull

under the canopy of the filling station.

Moths and june bugs swarm the lights

over the pumps. -What’ll it be sir?

-Fill her up with ethyl, please.

-Yes sir, check the oil? -No. it’s fine.

The teenage attendant carefully

fills the tank, dips a rag in a bucket

of soapy water and begins to clean

the bug splattered windshield.

Any worries about his passenger

were wasted, the kid is thoroughly

entranced by the stripped down car.

-Taken her down to the dry lakes, mister?

 She looks wicked fast. What’ll she do?

-I had her up to a hundred and twenty.

 probably get another twenty with

 a taller rear end. But I like some

  low end grunt. Not just top end.

-Yeah, me too. She sure looks wicked.

-That’ll be three dollars for the gas.

-Here ya go, kid, take it easy.

Back on the road, Ruthie giggles

-Can I come out of the blanket now?

-Sure, we’re clear, what’s so funny?

-You men and your car talk. Rear ends

 and low end grunt. And the cars are

 always female. sounds kinda dirty.

-That’s right. and we didn’t even get

 to duration and lift or polished heads.

 Now I think it’s time for you to show

 me if you can handle four on the floor.

-I can handle the stick Henry,

 if you can handle the curves.