rolled past a parade forming down the street,
ears stuffed with dollar bills:
considering all corners are dotted with free-for-all stop signs,
who notices any movement?
what is left of Arizona-city jukeboxes
whistling gold mine blues
(can you feel it) somewhere nearby
a delinquent of guards grows
they forgot the defense practice drill
where the enlisted had to sit on their hands a full forty minutes
testing if these young American-born citizens could endure claustrophobia,
and all the time the generals indulging themselves
book storefronts jangle with dry hair
soused electric guitars exploding
wars becoming children’s games
bathtub suds into river-box rocks
meanwhile, a miner's tune harps
echoing along Huachuca silver laden hills,
foreigh melodies heading for underpasses
then off to sleep soundly alongside donkey baseball parks
and voices harmonize from high risin zipped up hip-huggin boots
tanned bottomed naked baby children
eventually hearing their lullabies
delivered freely on demand, snap
yes, all the anguish and exhaustion has at last been melted to drink.
pitchers now fling quarters instead of a good fastball once in a while.
and these rivers can only be manhole covers for our minds,
when we really mean poison marguerites
bands tune up near discarded garbage pails,
this time no dress rehearsal
because down these cactus alleyways everbody knows:
that would stop and stare at it for too long a time
9/16/73
Tucson