Hole-In-The-Wall Poem by Stan Petrovich

It's Papago Park, man,1974,
Independence Day, and a throng went climbing
The redrock pockmarked bubbles between
Two litup cities. The sky, as well,
Lights up in a thunderstorm that encroaches from the east,
Blowing dust from the sandy east,
While we climb drunk on cheap wine and stoned on skunk weed.
I slip and scrape a knee
A long way down.
Are you all right, man? someone asks.
I know not.
I reel with the reeling in my head,
The throbbing in my knee.

Even had I broken a leg off
I'd sooner be there than
Suffer today,
For all the bitter cold I like,
I breath and blow,
For all the mounds of newly fallen
And eyepleasing frozen snow.