It has always mystified me how the largest democracy

In the world

Can still execute its own citizens

Curtis said this to me as we were driving through

Monument Valley

The following day we stopped at a gas station

In a dry dying town

Where only the descendants of the original ghosts

Could be seen in the shadows

Hiding from the savage sun

Before we left we purchased some provisions

As our journey was not even half complete

The girl who served us said that I resembled

The ghost of a young John Wayne

Which I took as a compliment

And let her keep our change

Curtis she said resembled her ex husband

Who was sitting on Death Row awaiting execution

For a murder that he did not commit

She asked us whether we were trying to discover

The Real America

We told her that we already had found

The Real America

And were now searching

For the true source

Of the warm milk

That could sometimes

Be found

In the rusting remains

Of the once active dustbowls

I