The Dream

We’re driving the High Road
Tomorrow Chimayo to Taos
Moving through the dream
Of Christ the Redeemer
Nailed to wooden pilings
Beneath vigas of disbelief
Barefoot natives weeping
Dirt floors scattered tamales
Virginal cattle gently stroll
Through verdant green fields
Overrun with expatriated art
Critics with pockets full of cash
Tonight we run with the coyotes

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