Carlo had seen it on the television
and the movie screen.
Vampires, their fangs gleaming gold.
He went to the library
found a book about it.
This was before the internet.
The steps were fairly easy.
Carve shape of fangs into a block of toofah (a soft stone)
melt scrap metal in crucible
pour molten metal into mold.
Let cool and… voila.
He made several pairs out of pewter
one pair out of silver.
He decorated them with rhinestones and bits of broken glass.
Look, Brother, he said, Just like in the movies.
His brother said, Fuck fangs, fuck vampires.
That's all a waste of time.
His mom and dad said the fangs were Pretty neat.
But there were no vampires in the desert
As he'd once heard on a local NEWS program,
"The desert just isn't juicy enough."
In defeat, Carlo put his fangs in a paper sack
drove out to the desert
and threw them all into the hot sand.
Crestfallen, he went for a long walk.
And beyond the dunes,
a line of straight black highway
was etched into the sand.
It went near to the horizon
before disappearing into a valley between red mountains.
He knew where it led.
He would call his parents from the road.