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If Bob Dylan


If Bob Dylan drove down my street
would he curse the dusty potholes
and slow for dogs? Could his passenger
be a gal he met when she was tending bar
the night before? Woman from Amarillo
who changed her name to Betty, rolling
her own cigarettes with just one hand.

 He signals knowingly when he turns
right onto Camino Sin Nombre. They see
the same things as they steer through
airy cottonwood down. The sound
of the night falling will bring them
to their senses, singing out loud.

 She will remind him how to swim.
Excerpted from The Shape of Caught Water
available from Red Mountain Press
or directly from the author (505.670.4327)

 http://redmountainpress.us/

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