Stock Tank Ocean

The old Jeep rattled
the old Jeep groaned
across the desert
dry, wind blown,
The sky was dusty
sun: high noon
I told you we
would be there soon,

We both wore Levi's
tee-shirts too
mine was red
yours was blue,
Hiking shoes
without socks
the old Jeep labored
across the rocks,

In the sky
three vultures soar
where they watching?
where they bored?
Did they hope
the Jeep would die
in noon-day sun
we would fry?

In low gear
the final hill
turned off the Jeep
the desert still,
Beside the track
the stock tank glistened
the old windmill
the vultures listened,

I said "we're here"
you said "no shit!"
took off our clothes
bit by bit,
You touched your hand
to the water
grimaced, said
"it could be hotter,"

The well is deep
the water's cold
this oasis
is very old,
I used to come here
way back when
summer, winter
here again,

You climbed the ladder
I watched your motion
you splashed into
the stock tank ocean,
You floated naked
In the blazing sun
said "come on in"
"we'll have some fun ..."