Photograph by Ken Schles
If you were still around
I’d hold you
Shake you by the knees
Blow hot air in both ears
You, who could write like a Panther Cat
Whatever got into your veins
What kind of green blood
Swam you to your doom
If you were still around
I’d tear into your fear
Leave it hanging off you
In long streamers
Shreds of dread
I’d turn you
Facing the wind
Bend your spine on my knee
Chew the back of your head
Til you opened your mouth to this life
- Sam Shepard
From Motel Chronicles
Photograph by Gil Rigoulet
should he head North
to her
climb into bed
with her
and would that make him soon forget
these morning nightmares
and random walks through woods
where he discovers nothing once again
but more of the same superstitions
traces of empty sagas
that don’t work for luck
or anything else
you can put your finger on
would running up there
to her
straight North on 39
erase all that
or just create a whole new set
of lawless circumstances
he’d soon regret
and set him wondering why he’d ever left
the sweet sweet sunny South
stay
he said to himself
in the voice of a man
in the voice of a man inside his chest
who told him in stern tones
things were already changing
for the worse
and it was far far better
to stay right there
sitting in his faded armchair
than to risk the road again
and all its bitter disappointments
stay
and tough it out
between the cattle and the moon
but what if she goes off
and gives up the ghost
of him
forever
falls off the face of the earth
somewhere
without even a kiss good-bye
that would have to be worse
than risking the highway
one last time
surely
that would have to be much much worse
stay
and watch the next set of possibilities
arise
and fall away
what have you got to lose
but everything
piece by piece
everything
day by day
- Sam Shepard
From Day Out of Days