paperback disaster

comic book seeker

rolled past a parade forming down the street,

his wings folded paper

ears stuffed with dollar bills:

what’s up?

what’s cop?

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

nickel for a play?

(can you feel it) somewhere nearby

army headquarters

(where love is born)

a delinquent of guards grows

as everyone's a seaman

shipping out for the Bay

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,

an accepted exercise

this exhibitionism-

and all the time the generals indulging themselves 

closer up,

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

nailed to the knees

saturated near crystal,

set up like the west,

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,

we call them purewater

when we really mean poison marguerites

behind a cowboy bar

bands tune up near discarded garbage pails,

this time no dress rehearsal

because down these cactus alleyways everbody knows:

the desert eats anything

that would stop and stare at it for too long a time

9/16/73

Tucson