Uncle Jack died trying to get out of bed.
Marines asleep in the Beirut bunker died.

The night I learned these things I dreamed
of parking in a camper by the dude ranch

At Sunset Road and beginning our walk through
the desert wash in the rain with a light mist veiling

Upturned faces — our entire bodies shimmering wet.
Before at this spot — not in a dream, stopping, admiring

A single blue wildflower — sun sparkling, traveling
out of my body to where the blossom and I were not

Singular beings but the many. The silhouette of a
lone horse stood out above the rose hedgehog cactus

Blooms strewn, zigzag along the granite slope, hearing the
thunder echo in the wash, walking beyond the flower spot,

Remarking about the existence of a decrepit shack, not
mine. I exclaim, “Surely, Rolling Thunder would be proud.”

Ahead, I see at first obscure, then with incredible clarity,
a strong full rainbow stretching across the grey sky

Touching either side of the dusty beige wash. Under the
rainbow at the end of the wash, the barren slate mountain

Arising, reflecting prismatic brilliance. Each of the
seven colors many times over great-jewel-like hunks,
pieced together, like a careless jigsaw puzzle.