Gyroscope Review 15-3 - Page 24

Mescalito by John Oliver Simon Jan was mourning Berenice’s recent death I was fighting with my dad not my father starting to write him the rattlesnake poems so we ate peyote and stayed up all night singing and telling stories round the fire that seemed to be burning on a mountaintop when we got cold we’d get up and hike around on starlit hillsides luminescent with song as the Dipper prowled counter-clockwise above we almost just about got to sleep at dawn when Mescalito sauntered into our camp wearing the semblance of a white coyote only way I could get him to leave was play my flute, the song about the little horses.
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