Stained Teeth

The teeth in my hand were white & brown & red
Confusion wrapped itself around me.
I was camped on top of the Mesa
The sun streaming down upon my frail form
I was caught in a sublime fount of light
My hands wrapped themselves around each other
I had no illusions
The sun was rising
But I felt it set
Breaking my molars
Setting my incisors to chattering
In the early pre-dawn frost
A bird squawked
& I turned
All around were rocks and cacti
And I felt so alone
All of a sudden
My mouth bleeding
Memories of a wasted youth
Clutched in my stained hands

Benjamin Joe is an ex-traveler, ex-hippie, up and coming journalist and blogger, father of one and someone who obsesses on how our past creates our future.