Among these godly spires:

streets that harvest
tourists from afar
pockets romancing
neon ***** and slots

our tables laid out to serve them
sliding doors and rollercoasters
they are mine

i dwell in the butterfly wings

with none other who can stand
the fat rain and desert hail
in spring
skeletal skeins
of lightning
life, i am on-watcher...
blind from the sights,

sleep stealing summers
heat so disfiguring,
no longer listening
to cassettes in the car
melted like Dali art

the sun is a horrible comedian...
our winters are kite killing
my nose feels as if locked
by samsonite

and the wind wails colder jokes...

Among these lit boxes
copy cats and volcanic hopes Mirage
through trials and tides
of creative construction of yore
most still stand *****

gambling on dreams
on days unkind, here i am
a unicorn

losing / winded / coming out un-even
alive tho trying
to enjoy / her
admirable rivers of new
peoples and foods
fire-breathing signs
she has many stories up
beneath
her evening skin
and silver teeth

while i am young
she flashes me
underground
and
glowing candies...

las vegas

is my grease
lightning
and seductive Sandy...