Saturday, January 27, 2007


There’s a heavenly oasis placed in Nevada.
Some would say two. Some would say none.

Within a squinting distance resides Los Angeles.
One can smell the stench of plastic and silicone.

I feel no shelter, no one’s values nor control.
Dwell in a motel for a few weeks. Check out the odds.

The splashes of 5,000 quarters rattle around.
Geriatric women tell me how proud my mother is.

My lover works. Entertains with nipples and bush.
How could I be the last to know?

I stopped in for a drink; female bodies spiraling.
Crotches thrusting at us like flying carpets.

The harsh reality sanded away hope and trust.
No keycard unlocks this boarded up mess.

It’s time to head back to the flatlands and woodlands.
The sorrow grows and grovels like a wart.


Post a Comment

<< Home