The junipers like your style, even if they don’t care if you’re scratched or cross through them softly without a little pain. Did it happen to you, beyond the risk and the near-misses? I don’t remember anymore if he was standing over you, if he ever did. I know you forgot the world, and events within, instead you looked to the amber sun setting over the little Texas town. Over the little Californian town, the little Oregon town, now the sun doesn’t set enough where you are. But someone else stands over you, or is it the first. You’ll have to tell me, I want to know. A lot like the trails and the paths, you walked the reverse Oregon trail, and you never got or lost any gold. You found friends, lost them, but they weren’t gold.
So I’d say it was the coming of age, the sexual violence, the western clarity, the poverty, the feminine independence and perspective, and some figure above it all there to save you from it. That’s what you wanted.