Los Angeles at Night

the palm trees

stand sentry

and whisper

bloody secrets

in their own language,

dark tongues

swishing sultry gibberish

with their shadows

starry-eyed young

infuse our air

with chiming dreams

thick in the lurid haze

we make our way to cars,

to move forward, onward,

riled by the possibility

of night

and the searing heat

of tomorrow

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