My friends says
That all the colors in the Rainbow
All the ice in the sea
All the rabbits in that
Obscure trilogy that I would never read-
Don't exist

He cleans pools on hot summer mornings in Denver
Looking towards the foothills of the Rockies
Waiting for the evening thunderstorm
To come rumbling to his doorstep
While he watches a ballgame and
Chugs down his third beer of the night
Calling me between innings to give me the score
Bitching how players today...

Last year we went camping in the desert
When the moon came up and lit the ground
-Like a crazy miner's headlamp-
It illuminated the Hoodoos that surrounded our site:
We heard the report of a pistol somewhere miles away
A shooting star blazed in the sky losing itself in the horizon
While my friend played softly on his harmonica

Sometimes I think the most perfect days
-The ones that you look back on-
The ones that stick in you like a splinter from a boardwalk
Are those filled with indelible images and sounds
We just forget the rest.