Sedona Poetry Lapse

Native American

Kiln-baked rocks of the red desert mesmerizing
soul's permanent recall, native flutes unraveling
inside imaginary winds as meditation assures me
there could be no pain of dying at such a shrine.

But a rude moment annihilates sense memory
as cafe musak switches from new age yearnings
to tired old tourist beats and Credence Clearwater Revival,
wrapped in the smell of wet, undercooked fries and BLT down,
hold the myths.