a lizard in snake skinned boots

 we were hangin out
 in bell's beer garden in kzoo
 when the last burst of a sunset
 shot rays through my amber ale
 and took me back
 to that pub in sausalito
 where you and i met carlos castaneda
 
 i remember how dark it was when we first walked inside
 the ornately carved antique wooden bar
 and the stories the owner told us about where he bought the bar
 and how he got it into the building years ago
 we ordered the amber ale on tap
 which he said was a specialty from a small brewery nearby
 
 and then we walked back, into that glassed in
 sun drenched room
 where carlos was sprawled out
 with his snake skinned boots propped up
 on one of the chairs left scattered around his table
 baking in the white heat that poured over his body
 like some kind of an irregular lounge lizard
 laying low
 
 i remember feeling this irresistible sense of anticipation
 as he raised his glass and invited us to take refuge
 within the range of his sweet eccentricity
 and being completely intrigued by the way his life
 was etched across his face
 like a clay mountain range where at its edge
 a speckled metallic bronze
 glittered up through the depths
 of his most fertile earth
 
 clearly he was a fellow traveler
 who had explored the far out regions of thought
 he showed you that rattlesnake skin that was taller than he was
 we talked about the colors of the desert
 drank the best amber ale i’d ever tasted
 and enjoyed the purity of the moment
 playfully talking and not talking
 with someone else
 who got it
 
 funny how that moment
 came back to me
 through this
 amber ale

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