I drove the rental car through a tree
as we continued on towards the ranch.
Saddled up hand measured horses and rode through the park.

Monster trees would have shadowed skyscrapers.
The bravest of birds nested only halfway,
for even feathered wings stall at that altitude.

The damnedest thing was the pine-cones,
golf ball-sized spheres
falling from giants.


It's a bumpy ride on a leather saddle,
a bit painful, too.
You smirked and said you needed a drink,
hell, so did I.

Later in Eureka California we walked to Ray's Saddle,
an old western bar with a wooden red patio,
fake cowboy mannequins gracing the entrance
pistols drawn, not ready to fire.

Our dry mouths megan to irrigate,
our sore bottoms limped through the door,
and the damnedest thing;
the bar stools were rawhide saddles.