She was tired of seeing me in my drunk costume.

She was tired of seeing me in my drunk costume. She never did have any class. She never told me her name either.

You see, I've been to the desert on a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain. In the desert, you can't remember your name, but with her it didn' t matter. I was so

happy to be riding her, my legs swaying to and fro as we gained momentum. I was so in the moment, I didn't notice at first when she began to get tired. Not until her front hoof

buckled did I notice. The was tired, thirsty and hungry. I slid off my horse and gave her the rest of my water. The dunes marched on as far as the eye can see. I heard a howl.

Then I heard an guzzling noise followed by a burp. I heard a rattle, a screech and a camel's roaring. My horse bolted. I walked over the dune & found a wind-up gramophone player

the "Golden Slumbers" song really hit me and sent me to a state of nirvana. Gosh, I miss Sandy, a thought that suddenly penetrated my brain without warning. I miss the warmth

of the sun. I miss the steam coming off a cup of decent coffee. Prison had incarcerated my spirit as well as my body. But the music and the depth of my longing changed me somehow.

It was in solitary. I heard the the 1st score of a divine symphony in that dark cell. I played it out on the bars & It carried me through 40 yrs to the day I left a different man

than I imagined I ever could have become. I knew philosophy. I knew law. I was ripped and had cool tats all over. There was a man I once knew, an attorney, and I owed him a visit.