The sky got gold and we watched the ducks for a long time without saying anything else. I felt good, virtuous, almost righteous, as that first day ended and I enjoyed the dawning realization that my dual fast was actually working: I hadn’t gone near the TV and I didn’t want to screw any of those ducks.
<p>Blackberry Vines</p>Blackberry vines and barelegged wimminThey led me astray, they took me in swimminI reached for a cherry but I got me a lemon‘Midst blackberry vines and barelegged wimmin.<p>Death Valley Dolly</p>On a barstool in Barstow I met herIn Kingman I quelled all her qualmsIn Phoenix I fought to forget herTo the clapping of 29 PalmsOh, Molly, my Death Valley dolly,You’re gone, by golly, you’re gone.Where the roadrunners run from the coyote sunMy fierce little falcon is flown.Eating noodles in Needles she caught meWith a Nogales gal on my knee,So while brawling in Brawley she shot meThen jumped in the sour Salton SeaOh, Molly, my Death Valley dollyYou’re gone, by golly you’re deadWhere the scorpions hide and the sidewinders slideYou lie in your alkali bed.<p>Ragweed Ruth</p>Ragweed Ruth was unmowed mazeShe was nightshade in the morningHer ragged flag was often raisedBut she raised it like a warning.No mate had she but emptinessNo family filled her timeShe sipped instead on bitternessJust like it was sweet winelike it was sweet wineShe soothed her throat with emptinessJust like it was sweet wine.The best spread once found anywhereWas left by her old man’s leavingBut she farmed those fields like a fool at prayerAnd watered them with dreaming.Her hay was wind and wanderingsShocked up by forked rakesHer grain was threshed by thunderingsHer trees were tangled snakestrees were tangled snakesHer grain was threshed by thunderingsHer trees were tangled snakes.Each spring the farmers from aroundBrought axes and advicesBut Ruth would firmly glare them downTo forge her own devices.For she was plenty to herselfShe survived the seasons throughShe was dark bread dipped in healthShe was her own strong brewwas her own strong brewShe was dark bread dipped in salty healthShe was her own strong brew.Then came the dry when the farming menFailed and cracked and fledRuth invited all the families inAnd somehow all were fed.Plow never cleft her bottomlandNor harrow stroked her sodStill, golden ears and marzipanUp sprung from where she trodsprung from where she trodGolden ears and marzipanSprung up from where she trod.The passing of her wandering walkCould fill a tree with fruitAt her glare the shriveled stalkWould straighten, stand and root.
