The wind picks up the dust
on the garbage-strewn street,
the sun throws its arms over the
kingdom of desire, smiling with
eyes scheming, distraught man
in painter's uniform looks both
ways before crossing, knows
well of the cancers contained in
the sun's malicious arms, as
well as the tobacco-stained
fingers of him and his strung-
out comrades.
Welcome home, to the city
that sleeps two hours a night,
to the city that is always hungry
and digs 24 hour all-you-can-eat
buffets.
Casinos dot the concrete waste-
lands, filling hearts with empty
empty, filling eyes with glamour
glitz bonafide illusion. Know
that everything but the sand
is false.
The wind blows harder and
dust devils dance.
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