Up a little coiled
street, hardly touching
yards of palms and
cacti-
a street asleep the way
a ribbon lies,
untouched and full of
Christmas
  promise

up the corkscrew street, your hand in mine

and all the sleepy
little
foggy town
is a midnight shade of
red

The Copper Queen Mine
may be haunted
but I'm too in love
to see an ending or
   the dead.