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