Las Vegas on a Business Trip

Our neon Gomorrah

carved out of drought and sand,

abundant with sweat and makeup,

a craven blight upon the land.

Stinging with eye smoke

and loneliness,

crumpled souls

beg with quiet faces

for something better,

something real. 

First Trip to Las Vegas

America’s largeness

in lights

ethereal magic

and topless dreams

blazing machines

penny slot siren maze

eyes glazed

for days

pit upon pit

—trimmed greens

for your cash—

bill-breaking towers

in faux gold

a tiny taste

for young and old

stamped upon the thirsty land

oasis of illusive plenty

advance and decline

in one gleaming gift

cheering on

our own great blazing burnout

one bet at a time

At the Convention Center

At the convention center

people wait

to start their day

smile and shake hands

and things are all O.K.

echoes in the large, cool rooms

as people mouth the lines

they need to speak

the trip justified

an expense account,

a line checked off

A life of unpacking

and catching the next plane:

awake, realize what you have

and dissipate this pain

Ten-Dollar Blackjack

Real life happens

at the ten-dollar blackjack tables

where elderly Asian men

school business travelers,

where warrior poets

rest for leisure,

turn aside the free drinks,

and learn the math

of risk and good living.

Wondering where the night has gone,

we count our chips and think of home.

The dealers change over,

the game remains.