WILD HORSES

Las Vegas. How glorious!
It’s a hot diggity dog free-for-all.
No planning, no zoning – 
            dump it all out there
            on dry-as-a-bone high desert,
                      a pawnshop, carwash     
		       heaven.       

Million dollar-gated communities rest flush against junked car yards with razor wire fences,
            graffitied underpasses and washed out 
	    arroyos with undocumented poverty up the                          
            wazoo.

In the middle of which someone has dropped
a statue of liberty, a sphinx and a pyramid
            stitched together by a roller coaster -
                      “Oh, say can you see!"
 
People flock here to drop millions.

 
“They’ve shipped the wild horses north.” The park ranger told me.
            “They couldn’t survive here.”