I walked out the backdoor of my life
into desolate cold bleakness 
where dirty grey snow
meets steel grey sky
offering no horizon or shadow
to define my place in the universe.

No sign of life, nothing moves
in this frozen space without end.

Perspective of my existence lost
I wandered away into grey vastness
of a cold unforgiving desert
searching for a lost memory
in a far distance that did not exist.

I heard the howl of a hungry wolf.

Night winds howled 
through slick canyon walls
blowing sweet dreams 
from sleepless denizens 
to someplace beyond 
opium dens of Paris,
dark Bangkok brothels, 
ashrams of India,
underground jazz bars 
of Kerouac’s San Francisco . . . 
to a far away ancient land 
where grey eyed Athena lives
with her sacred horned owl.

I met my illusion today for coffee.
The barista’s illusion was friends with my illusion.
Our illusions introduced the barista and me.
I bought my illusion a latte.
She thanked me.
We all talked over coffee catching up on past illusions.
The barista took my hand.
She told me she loved me.
The clock on the wall melted into time. 
My head exploded in light.
When I awoke my illusion was gone.
The barista went with me to Barstow.
We live alone in the desert.