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Nevada unfolds like a beige forgotten bed
The sun is a merciless thing you said
Air conditioning’s a prayer on high
Your shirt’s a puddle on the passenger side
I’m in a tank top thin as a sigh
Shoulders bare to the big blank sky
The road’s a zipper trying to close
The gap between us heaven knows
You watch the heat rise a watery dream
I watch the light on your collarbone gleam
Two different kinds of thirst it seems
Two different kinds of…burning things
Ooh the desert doesn’t care
Ooh for love or for despair
It just stretches out its hot still air
And my shoulders are bare
And your eyes are somewhere…out there
Ooh and the cold from the vent
Makes a promise that’s spent
On a skin that’s too warm to be lent
Shoulders bare in Nevada
A silent solar sweet saga
A hawk turns a circle a rusty patient key
Unlocking nothing for us to see
You point your finger a pale event
Against the window’s firmament
The silence grows teeth and then it bites
In the nicest softest slowest of lights
I shiver though it’s ninety-five
To be this seen and feel this…alive
The map says we’re nowhere a dot that’s blue
My heart says we’re somewhere perfectly new
Between the “you”and the “me”and the view
A country made just for two
Ooh the desert doesn’t care
Ooh for skin or for a prayer
It just holds us in its steady stare
And my shoulders are bare
And your shadow’s a cross I could wear
Ooh and the miles are a thread
Stitching a future unsaid
To a past that is cold and dead
Shoulders bare in Nevada
A beautiful barren cavatina
And for a moment I forget the car
Forget the “where”and the “thus far ”
We’re just two bodies in a bowl of light
Holding the day and holding the night
The dashboard plastic the leather seat
Are just the props at our bare feet
The only real thing is the space you don’t cross
And the beautiful terrifying potential loss…
Of this Just this The almost-kiss of the sun
The thing we’ve done and the thing we haven’t done
The hawk is gone The key is turned
A lesson learned or simply…earned
You put your shirt back on a slow decree
The desert pours itself back into “me”and “he”
A sign ahead: “Next Services 50 ”
The moment’s passed gentle and plenty
The air conditioner hums its same old tune
Beneath a high indifferent moon
Shoulders bare…but covered soon
