ADRIFT

Adrift in time,
days wash by
without regard
for date or name.
A whole week
vanished in August.
There is nowhere to go.
No one wants our dollars.
Once we modeled democracy.
Our story now's a dark comedy.
The President says the virus
will vanish like a mist.
No problem, he’s got this.
Magical realism is fine for
Isabel Allende and
Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
but has no place in a country where
       people die alone in crowded hospitals
       city folks swarm to the country
       morgue trailers line city streets.
A pandemic’s not a minor event,
a slight inconvenience.
It stops the world.
No magic can blind us
to the growing 
pile of corpses.
 
 

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, car-wash 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 statute 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.”

LOVING AND LOSING

Loving you prepared me for Walmart
where greeters are friendly but the merchandise
is made by strangers in dark, distant rooms.
 
Losing you prepared me for Reductions in Force
Being told “You’ve worked hard. This isn’t personal. 
It’s about stock price.”
 
Watching you leave broke me like an egg
Nothing I knew was true – zip – zero – nada.
I must start again from the beginning.
 
Starting over prepared me for God,
who waited at the still bottom of a life 
emptied of passion, distraction and theory.