circa 1963
desert race
rim-trail dance
pit racer
typical snag
clearing the trail
Our captive artist,
Herpes Latrine, has been seduced
with tacos and resumed work.
(rights reserved)
GO BACK
I didn’t know if I could adjust to southern New Mexico and decided the way to find out was to take a canteen and sit in it awhile. The sun burned down, and I took shelter in a dry wash in the shade. A jack rabbit came loping down the ditch toward me. He saw me, his bent ear came to attention, and he froze for a few seconds before ambling back the way he’d come. Everyone (except Walt Disney and Jim Henson) knows rabbits can’t talk, but I imagined the bunny had delivered a message. He told me to stay — nowhere is perfect and this place is right peaceful. That’s why I didn’t blow him away with my 44. It is bad karma to hurt a friendly spirit . . . anyway, jack rabbits are to stringy to eat.