Para que o Mito continue o tributo a Banda de uma Geração The Doors

Não posso jogar com tudo porque...
não fazemos a vida, ela própria nos faz...~

The World on Fire

The World on Fire...
Taxi from Africa...
The Grand Hotel...
He was drunk
a big party last night
back going back
in all directions
sleeping these insane hours
I'll never wake up
in a good mood again
I'm sick of these stinky boots

A forma é um anjo com a alma

de cavalo para homem para rapaz

e ao invés

Música sexo & idéia são as

correntes da conexão

transição da amizade

condutor da alma desde o

gordo cérebro do segredo

até o crepúsculo

Realizar

Bem-vindos à noite

Bem-vindos à boa profunda

escura Noite Americana

um homem arranja tempo para morrer

o seu desperdício de âmbar

sujas pegadas de suíno

nos acampamentos, onde as amontoadas

estrelas torcidas

negra escuras trazem o número

do destino

Ajuda-nos senhor

To Pamela Susan

---

I

Snakeskin jacket
Indian eyes
Brilliant hair

He moves in disturbed
Nile Insect
Air

---

II

You parade thru the soft summer
We watch your eager rifle decay
Your wilderness
Your teeming emptiness
Pale forests on verge of light
decline.

More of your miracles
More of your magic arms

---

III

Bitter grazing in sick pastures
Animal sadness & the daybed
Whipping.
Iron curtains pried open.
The elaborate sun implies
dust, knives, voices.

Call out of the Wilderness
Call out of fever, receiving
the wet dreams of an Aztec King.

---

IV

The banks are high & overgrown
rich w/ warm green danger.
Unlock the canals.
Punish our sister's sweet playmate distress.
Do you want us that way w/ the rest?
Do you adore us?
When you return will you still want to play w/ us?

---

V

Fall down.
Strange gods arrive in fast enemy poses.
Their shirts are soft marrying cloth and hair together.
All along their arms ornaments conceal veins bluer that blood pretending welcome.
Soft lizard eyes connect.
Their soft drained insect cries erect new fear, where fears reign.
The rustling of sex against their skin.
The wind withdraws all sound.
Stamp your witness on the punished ground.

---

VI

Wounds, stags, & arrows
Hooded flashing legs plunge near the tranquil women.
Startling obedience from the pool people.
Astonishing caves to plunder.
Loose, nerveless ballets of looting.
Boys are running.
Girls are screaming, falling.
The air is thick w/ smoke.
Dead crackling wires dance pools of sea blood.

---

VII

Lizard woman
w/ your insect eyes
w/ your wild surprise.
Warm daughter of silence.
Venom.
Turn your back w/ a slither of moaning wisdom.
The unblinking blind eyes behind walls new histories rise
and wake growling & whining the weird dawn of dreams.
Dogs lie sleeping.
The wolf howls.
A creature lives out the war.
A forest.
A rustle of cut words, choking
river.

---

VIII

The snake, the lizard, the insect eye
the huntsman's green obedience.
Quick, in raw time, serving stealth & slumber,
grinding warm forests into restless lumber.

Now for the valley.
Now for the syrup hair.
Stabbing the eyes, widening skies
behind the skull bone.
Swift end of hunting.
Hug round the swollen torn breast & red-stained throat.
The hounds gloat.
Take her home.
Carry our sister's body, back
to the boat.

---

A pair of Wings
Crash
High winds of Karma

Sirens

Laughter & young voices
in the mts.

---

Saints
the Negro, Africa
Tattoo
eyes like time

---

Build temporary habitations, games
& chambers, play there, hide.

First man stood, shifting stance
while germs of sight
unfurl'd Flags in his skull

and quickening, hair, nails, skin
turned slowly, whirl'd, in
the warm aquarium, warm
wheel turning.

Cave fish, eels, & gray salamanders
turn in their night career of sleep.

The idea of vision escapes
the animal worm whose earth
is an ocean, whose eyes is its body.

---

The theory is that birth is prompted
by the child's desire to leave the womb.
But in the photograph an unborn horse's
neck strains inward w/ legs scooped out.

From this everything follows:

Swallow milk at the breast
until there's no milk.

Squeeze wealth at the rim
until tile pools claim it.

He swallows seed, his pride
until w/ pale mouth legs

she sucks the root, dreading
world to devour child.

Doesn't the ground swallow me
when I die, or the sea
if I die at sea?

---

The City. Hive, Web, or severed
insect mound. All citizens heirs
of the same royal parent.

The caged beast, the holy center,
a garden in the midst of the city.

"See Naples & die."
Jump ship. Rats, sailors
& death.

So many wild pigeons.
Animals ripe w/ new diseases.
"There is only one disease
and I am its catalyst,"
cried doomed pride of the carrier.

Fighting, dancing, gambling,
bars, cinemas thrive
in the avid summer.

 

---

Savage destiny

Naked girl, seen from behind,

on a natural road

Friends
explore the labyrinth

- Movie
young woman left on the desert

A city gone mad w/ fever

---

Sister of the unicorn, dance
Sisters & brothers of Pyramid
Dance

Mangled hands
Tales of the Old Days
Discovery of the Sacred Pool
changes
Mute-handed stillness baby cry

The wild dog
The sacred beast

Find her!

---

He goes to see the girl
of the ghetto
Dark savage streets.
A hut, lighted by candle.
She is magician
Female prophet
Sorceress
Dressed in the past
All arrayed.

The stars
The moon
She reads the future
in your hand.

---

The walls are garish red
The stairs
High discordant screaming
She has the tokens.
"You too"
"Don't go"
He flees.
Music renews.

The mating-pit.
"Salvation"
Tempted to leap in circle.

Negroes riot.

---

Fear the Lords who are secret among us.
The Lords are w/ in us.
Born of sloth & cowardice.

---

He spoke to me. He frightened
me w/ laughter. He took
my hand, & led me past
silence into cool whispered
Bells.

---

A file of young people
going thru a small woods

---

They are filming something
in the street, in front of
our house.

---

Walking to the riot
Spreads to the houses
the lawns

suddenly alive now
w/ people
running

 

---

I don't dig what they did
to that girl
Mercy pack
Wild song they sing
As they chop her hands
Nailed to a ghost
Tree

I saw a lynching
Met the strange men of the souther swamp
Cypress was their talk
Fish-call & bird-song
Roots & signs out of all knowing
They chanced to be there
Guides, to the white
gods.

---

An armed camp.
Army army
burning itself in
feasts.

---

Jackal, we sniff after the survivors of caravans.
We reap bloody crops on war fields.
No meat of any corpse deprives our lean bellies.
Hunger drives us on scented winds.
Stranger, traveler,
peer into our eyes & translate
the horrible barking of ancient dogs.

---

Camel caravans bear
witness guns to Caesar.
Hordes crawl & seep inside
the walls. The streets
flow stone. Life goes
on absorbing war. Violence
kills the temple of no sex.

---

Terrible shouts start
the journey
- If they had migrated sooner

- a high wailing keening
piercing animal lament
from a woman
high atop a Mt. tower

- Thin wire fence
in the mind
dividing the heart

---

Surreptitiously
They smile
Inviting - Smiling

Choktai
leave!
evil
leave!
No come here
Leave her!

 

A creature is nursing
its child
soft arms around
the head & the neck
a mouth to connect
leave this child alone
This one is mine
I'm taking her home
Back to the rain

---

The assassin's bullet
Marries the King
Dissembling miles of air
To kiss the crown.
The Prince rambles in blood.
Ode to the neck
That was groomed
For rape's gown.

---

Cancer city
Urban fall
Summer sadness
The highways of the old town
Ghosts in cars
Electric shadows

---

Ensenada
the dead seal
the dog crucifix
ghosts of the dead car sun.
Stop the car.
Rain. Night.
Feel.

---

Sea-bird sea-moan
Earthquake murmuring
Fast-burning incense
Clamoring surging
Serpentine road
To the Chinese caves
Home of the winds
The gods of mourning

---

The city sleeps
& the unhappy children
roam w/ animal gangs.
They seem to speak
to their friends
the dogs
who teach them trails.
Who can catch them?
Who can make them come
inside?

---

The tent girl
at midnight
stole to the well
& met her lover there
They talked a while
& laughed
& then he left
She put an orange pillow
on her breast

In the morning
Chief w/drew his troops
& planned a map
The horsemen rose on up
the women fixed the ropes
on tight
The tents are folded now
We march toward the sea

---

Catalog of Horrors
Descriptions of Natural disaster
Lists of miracles in the divine corridor
Catalog of fish in the divine canal
Catalog of objects in the room
List of things in the sacred river

---

I

The soft parade has now begun
on Sunset.
Cars come thundering down
the canyon.
Now is the time & the place.
The cars come rumbling.
"You got a cool machine."
These engine beasts
muttering their soft
talk. A delight
at night
to hear their quiet voices
again
after 2 years.

Now the soft parade
has soon begun.
Cool pools
from a tired land
sink now
in the peace of evening.
Clouds weaken
& die.
The sun, an orange skull,
whispers quietly, becomes an
island, & is gone.

There they are
watching
us everything
will be dark.
The light changed.
We were aware
knee-deep in the fluttering air
as the ships move on
trains in their wake.
Trench mouth
again in the camps.
Gonorrhea
Tell the girl to go home
We need a witness
to the killing.

---

II

The artists of Hell
set up easels in parks
the terrible landscape,
where citizens find anxious pleasure
preyed upon by savage bands of youths

I can't believe this is happening
I can't believe all these people
are sniffing each other
& backing away
teeth grinning
hair raised, growling, here in
the slaughtered wind

I am ghost killer.
witnessing to all
my blessed sanction

This is it
no more fun
the death of all joy
has come.

Do you dare
deny my
potency
my kindness
or forgiveness?
Just try
you will fry
like the rest
in holiness

And not for a
penny
will I spare
any time
for you
Ghost children
down there
in the frightening world

You are alone
& have no need of other
you & the child mother
who bore you
who weaned you
who made you man

---

III

Photo-booth killer
fragile bandit
straight from ambush

Kill me!
Kill the child who made
Thee.
Kill the thought-provoking
senator of lust
who brought you to this state.

Kill hate
disease
warfare
sadness

Kill badness
Kill madness

Kill photo mother murder tree
Kill me.
Kill yourself
Kill the little blind elf.

The beautiful monster
vomits a stream of watches
clocks jewels knives silver
coins & copper blood

The well of time & trouble
whiskey bottles perfume
razor blades beads
liquid insects hammers
& thin nails the feet of
birds eagle feathers & claws
machine parts chrome
teeth hair shards of
pottery & skulls the ruins
of our time the debris by
a lake the gleaming
beer cans & rust & sable
menstrual fur

Dance naked on broken
bones feet bleed & stain
glass cuts cover your mind
& the dry end of vacuum
boat white the people
drop lines in still pools
& pull ancient trout
from the deep home. Scales
crusted & gleaming green
A knife was stolen. A
valuable hunting knife
By some strange boys
from the other camp across
the Lake

---

I

Are these our friends
racing & shuddering
thru the calm vales of parliament

My son will not die in the war
He will return
numbed peasent voice of Orient
fisherman

Last time you said
this was the only way
voice of tender young girl

Running & speaking
infected green
jungles

consult the oracle
bitter creek
crawl
they exist on rainwater

monkey-love
mantra mate
maker of brandy

The poison isles
The poison

Take this thin granule
of evil snakeroot
from the southern
shore

way out miracle
will find thee

The chopper blazed over
inward click & sure
blasted matter, made
the time bombs free
of leprous lands
spotted w/ hunger
& clinging to law

Please
show us your ragged head
& silted smiling eyes
calm in fire
a silky flowered shirt
edging the eyes, alive
spidery, distant
dial lies

come, calm one
into the life-try

already wifelike
latent, leathery, loose
lawless, large & languid
She was a kingdom-cry
legion of lewd marching
mind-men

Where are your manners
out there on the sunlit
desert
boundless galaxies of dust
cactus spines, beads
bleach stones, bottles
& rust cars, stored for shaping

The new man, time-soldier
picked his way narrowly
thru the crowded ruins
of once grave city, gone
comic now w/ rats
& the insects of refuge

He lives in cars
goes fruitless thru
the frozen schools
& finds no space
in shades of obedience

the monitors are silenced
the great graveled guard-towers
sicken on the westward beach
so tired of watching

if only on horse were left
to ride thru the waste
a dog at his side
to sniff meat-maids
chained on the public poles

there is no more argument
in beds, at night
blackness is burned
Stare into the parlors of town
where a woman dances
in her European gown
to the great waltzes
this could be fun
to rule a wasteland

II

Cherry palms
Terrible shores
& more
& many more

This we know
that all are free
in the school-made
text of the unforgiven

deceit smiles
incredible hardships are suffered
by those barely able
to endure

but all will pass
lie down in green grass
& smile, & muse, & gaze
upon her smooth
resemblance
to the mating-Queen
who it seems
is in love
w/ the horseman

now, isn't that fragrant
Sir, isn't that knowing
w/ a wayward careless
backward glance

July 24, 1968
Los Angeles, The United States, Hawaii

by James Douglas Morrison

THE SCREEN IS BLACK. We hear a young man's voice in
        casual conversation with friends.

                No, this guy told me you can go
                down across the border and buy a
                girl and bring her back and that's
                what I'm goin' to do, I'm gonna go
                down there and buy one of them and
                bring her back and marry her. I am.

        An older woman's voice

                Billy, are you completely crazy?

        We hear the good-natured laughter of the woman, a man
        and another friend as Billy's insistent voice rises through
        saying:

                               BILLY
                No, it's true. Really. This guy told
                me. It's true. I'm really gonna do it.

        The film changes to COLOR. A couple sit at a small table in
        a simulated border town nightclub. It is a CLOSE shot,
        reminding us possibly of Picasso's "Absinthe Drinkers." The
        atmosphere is suggested by peripheral sounds such as bois-
        terous young voices, curses in a foreign language, the tin-
        kling of glasses and music from a small rock band. Perhaps a
        dancer is visible in the background. Perhaps topless. An
        anonymous waitress could enter the frame and leave, serving
        drinks.

        The HERO is drunk and he's trying to persuade an attractive
        Mexican girl, a waitress in the bar, a whore, to cross the
        border and marry him. The girl tolerates him. She is work-
        ing, hustling drinks, and has to listen but also she likes him.
        In some way, he interests her.

                               BILLY
                I bet only reason you won't come
                with me is because I ain't got any
                money. Well, listen. I'm tellin' you.
                I'm gonna go back up there and get
                me some money, lots of it, maybe
                even ten thousand. And then I'm
                comin' back for you. I'm comin'
                back.

        He weaves offscreen, determined, drunk, camera hold on
        girl, smiling wistfully and ironically after him. Then she
        grabs another young American and pulls him down beside
        her.

                              THE GIRL
                Hey, man, you want to buy me a
                drink?

        TITLE

                          THE HITCHHIKER
                      (An American Pastoral)

        Film changes to BLACK and WHITE. It is dawn on the
        American desert; it's cold, and he stands hunched in his
        jacket, by the side of the highway. The sun is rising. We
        hold on him as a few cars go by at long intervals. We hear
        the car coming, watch his eyes watching, he sticks his thumb
        out. CUT TO profile shot, as a car swishes by. The third
        car stops and he runs, not too energetically and get inside.

        INTERIOR car. Middle-aged man in a business suit. He asks
        the hitchhiker where he is going.

                               BILLY
                            (mumbling)
                L.A.

        He is obviously reluctant to do any talking.

                            THE DRIVER
                I can take you as far as Amarillo and
                then you'll have to go on from there.

                               BILLY
                    (No reply. No recognition.)

                               DRIVER
                What are you going to do when you
                get to L.A.? Have you got a job lined
                up?

                               BILLY
                (No answer. He is beginning to nod.)

        The man drives on. We see glimses of the American land-
        scape out the window of the car. The man glances sideways
        occasionally at Billy who is sleeping.

        CLOSE UP of the man's right hand moving snake-like to-
        wards the hiker's left leg. He hesitates and then touches it
        above the knee. Immediately, a .38 revolver appears from
        Billy jacket and points at the driver.

                               BILLY
                Pull over.

        Profile of car, left side, extremely long shot. We hear a shot.
        The hitchhiker comes around the rear of the car, opens the
        door, and pulls the driver toward camera, his corpse that is,
        to the gully, and, after stripping his wallet of all the cash,
        gets into the car and drives away.

        The kid is standing beside the car with his thumb out. The
        hood is raised. The engine has failed. A State Patrolman (we
        learn this from his uniform, western hat, and badge) stops in
        his own unmarked car. Billy gets in the car. The sheriff is
        friendly. He talks a lot. He tells Billy that he's just getting
        back home after delivering two lunatics from his local jail to
        the state asylum.

                              SHERIFF
                I had to put them both in straight-
                jackets and throw them in the back
                of the wagon. I had to. They were
                totally uninhibited. I mean, if I let
                'em loose, they just start jerking off
                and playing with each other, so I had
                to keep them tied up.

        The killer is trying to stay awake. He's strung out on ben-
        nies, and also just plain exhausted, and he's fighting to fol-
        low the man's conversation. The sheriff rambles on. Billy is
        in that weird state between what's being said in reality and what
        he hears in his dream. The sheriff asks a question. He an-
        swers and then jerks up suddenly to realize that he's been
        inventing his own dialogue inside his head. Finally, he can
        take it no longer. He pulls the gun out and orders the sheriff
        to pull over to the side of the road. Then he forces him to
        unlock the trunk, orders him inside and slams the lid.

        INTERIOR of car. The hitchhiker is driving on.

        As the car slows down for an upgrade, the trunk flies open
        and the sheriff tumbles out into the dust. Billy sees it in the
        rearview mirror. He slams on the brakes, jumps out of the
        car and runs back to the spot. From off in the desert, we see
        the sheriff racing insanely toward the camera. He suddenly
        leaps and throws himself flat on the ground behind a sand
        dune, next to the camera. From this point of view, the sheriff
        crouched and breathing in heavy gasps, we watch the kid
        stand on the side of the road, stare out into the desert and
        finally get back into the car and drive away.

        Billy is hitchhiking again. Obviously, he has ditched the
        sheriff's car somewhere along the way. A car pulls over.
        There is a young man driving and in the back seat are his
        wife and two small children, a boy and a girl. The driver is
        friendly, tells him he used to hitchhike a lot himself and
        volunteers the information that he has just returned home
        from two years in Viet Nam, where he was a pilot. Billy
        pulls out the gun and lets them know immediately that he
        wants them to take him anywhere he wants to go. Other-
        wise, he'll kill them.

        It is NIGHT. They pull into a gas station. Billy is hungry,
        so are the kids. So he goes with the ex-aviator into a small
        country store that's part of the station. He warns the family
        to keep quiet or he'll kill everyone.

        INSIDE the country store. A seedy old man behind the
        counter. They ask him for a bunch of ham sandwiches. In
        close-up, we watch him slice the meat, the knife hesitating
        minutely, deciding on the thickness of each slice. The two
        men stand there watching him. Suddenly, the husband
        wheels around and gets a grip on the hitchhiker from behind.
        They whirl madly around the store, the father screaming for
        the proprietor to call the police.

                              THE MAN
                Stop him! He's got a gun!! He's
                gonna kill us!!! Help me!!!!

        Billy somehow manages to get his gun out and forces the
        man to the car. The store owner stares after him, mouth
        agape, then picks up the receiver to call the police.

        MORNING. A young boy finds the car, pulled off on a side
        road, splattered with blood. He opens the door and sees the
        little girl's baby doll, the naked, flesh-colored rubber kind,
        and in close-up, we see blood on it.

        The EXTERIOR of a run-down shack in the country. We
        hear the sounds from inside. INTERIOR of shack. Televi-
        sion and radio and newspaper reporters, including an attrac-
        tive woman with a notebook, are interviewing the killer's
        father. He's a very old man, an alcoholic, who is slightly
        pleased to be thrust suddenly into the spotlight, but who
        treats the situation with a grave sense of public image and
        self-irony.
                             THE FATHER
                He was always a pretty strange boy,
                specially after his mother passed
                away. Then he got real quiet. He
                didn't have many friends. Just his
                brothers and sisters.

                           GIRL REPORTER
                Mr. Cooke, is there anything you'd
                like to tell your son?

                               FATHER
                Yes, there is. Billy, if you can hear
                me, son, please turn yourself in.
                Cause what you're doin', it just ain't
                right. You're not doin' right, son.
                And you know it.

        During this appeal, the camera has moved slowly into a
        CLOSE-UP of the old man's face.

        INTERIOR. Car. Night. Rain. A car radio. The light glows
        yellow in the dark car. The radio is playing a country gospel
        hour. A revival meeting. The preacher and his flock. As Billy
        listens, we flash back into his past, over the rain and wind-
        shield wipers. We see an old man and a young boy in the
        woods. The man is Billy's father and the boy is Billy himself
        at about age seven or eight. The father teaches his son how
        to shoot a gun. He tell him to aim at a rabbit.

                             THE FATHER
                Don't be afraid, son. Don't be afraid.
                Just squeeze one off.

        We see a rabbit pinioned in a rifle's telescopic sight.

        A small town high school, 3:30, bell rings, school is out. The
        kids gush from the building and flow like a human stream to
        the favorite drive-in restaurant.

        INTERIOR of car. Billy is eating a cheeseburger and Coke.
        Through his windows he watches the movements of one of
        the carhops. She is wearing slacks and with him we watch
        her ass and thighs. When she comes to collect, he asks her to
        come for a ride with him. We hear him say this but the
        ensuing dialogue is shown in pantomime. The actual voices
        are drowned out by the sounds of radios, kids talking.

        They are driving up a mountain road. The Rolling Stones'
        "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" comes on the radio. Billy sings
        along with the record with wild abandon and squirms in his
        seat like a toad.

        The car is parked on a rocky view overlooking the ocean.
        He gets out of the car and dances around it, acting crazy, and
        howling like an Indian. He ducks up and down, appearing
        and reappearing in different windows. She laughs at his
        clowning.

        The couple are in the back seat, vaguely we see their move-
        ments, hear them whispering, laughing, talking. CUT TO
        outside of car. They get out of the back of the car, hair and
        clothes disarranged and move side by side into a rough ter-
        rain behind some rocks. Camera holds on the rocks. A pri-
        meval rock formation. At a rhythm that is peculiarly
        excruciating, we hear three gunshots.

        A rest room in an LA service station. EXTERIOR. Billy
        enters rest room.

        INTERIOR rest room. Billy shaves with soap in rest room
        mirror, runs his wet hands through his hair.

        EXTERIOR, downtown LA. Camera follows him from a
        car, as he wanders through the downtown crowds of Broad-
        way and Main Street. Many times he is lost to our view. We
        see him in an arcade, where he plays a pinball machine.

        CLOSE-UP of pinball game in progress.

        Billy in photo booth. Flash of the lights.

        CLOSE-UP of four automatic photos: flash flash flash flash.
        Four faces of Billy.

        Billy in downtown hamburger stand. He is eating, seen from
        behind, Gun enters frame left. He turns and sees it, stares
        back blankly.

        CUT TO EXTERIOR, street. In hand-held confused close-
        up sequence, we see him dragged and shoved into the back
        seat of a car (police car). He is kicked and beaten. During the
        struggle, we hear many men's voices, gloating righteous ex-
        clamations.

                                 MEN
                So you're the little bastard that
                killed all those people! (Kick) You
                had a good time, didn't you? (Kick)
                You really killed 'em, didn't you?

        Hands cuffed behind his back, he looks up with a confused
        expression and says:

                               BILLY
                But I'm a good boy.

        The men laugh.

        Film switches to COLOR. A montage of extant photo-
        graphs representing death. The body of Che Guevara, a
        northern Renaissance Dutch crucifixion, bullfight, slaugh-
        terhouse, mandalas and into abstraction. A nature film of a
        mongoose killing a cobra, a black dog runs free on the beach.
        FADE INTO BLACKNESS.

        EXTERIOR night. On the steps of City Hall of Justice we
        see the hitchhiker descend dreamlike in slow motion, move
        languorously across a deserted city square toward the camera
        until he covers the lens and seems to pass through it.

        Seen now from behind, as he moves away from lens, he
        enters a desert outskirt region where he finds an automobile
        graveyard. He is wandering in Eternity. In the junkyard,
        three people squat around a small fire. They're cooking po-
        tatoes in the coals, an older man named DOC pokes the fire
        with a stick. There is an older woman, funky, glamorous,
        and the third person is a young boy, a mute, of indeterminate
        age. He is slightly made up with white makeup. They are
        hoboes in Eternity and are not surprised to see him. He nears
        the fire.

                                 DOC
                Well, how ya doin', kid? I see you
                did it again. Ya hungry? There's
                some food here if ya want it.

        Billy doesn't speak. He stares at the moon. The woman has
        kept her head down, her hair covering her face.

                                DOC
                Billy's back. Blue Lady, didja hear
                me? I said Billy's back.

        She looks up for the first time.

                             BLUE LADY
                Hi, Billy.

                               BILLY
                Hello, Blue Lady.

        He looks at the boy.

                Hiya, Clown Boy.

        CLOWN BOY claps his hands and nods, his face contorted
        grotesquely in greeting. They sit for a while like this, and
        stare at the fire. They eat the potatoes. Then Doc rises and
        says:

                                DOC
                The sun's gonna be up in a while. I
                guess we'd better move on.

        Slowly, one by one, the other two rise. Doc puts out the fire
        with dirt and says:

                                DOC
                Ya comin' with us, Billy?

                               BILLY
                          (thinking hard)
                I don't know, Doc, I just don't know.

        Doc smiles.

                                DOC
                Well, we'll see ya later, kid. The rest
                of the gang will be real glad to see
                ya. They sure will. Well...

        Doc, Clown Boy and the Blue Lady start moving toward
        the rising sun into the mountain desert. Every now and then
        they turn and wave, Clown Boy leaping up and down madly
        and waving good-bye.

        As they slowly disappear, camera changes focus to Billy, the
        hitchhiker, the kid, the killer, hunkered over the dead smol-
        dering fire.

                              THE END