Originally published in Tule Review, Fall 2013 – Copyright © October 2013, Sacramento Poetry Center Press
Palm Springs , it seems so odd to me, by the
one o’clock in the afternoon – All the
Quest for the Holy Grail: The Sunrise in
time 8 AM rolls around it feels like
sun dresses and short skirts, low
cut blouses
open-toed sandals and bare white
ankles
I’m blinded by the sunlight
streaking be-
hind the mountain range, rises so
quickly
placing shadows in the queerest
angles –
Suddenly the manicured lawn becomes
a
dry and empty desert choked of any
moisture, save what they can steal
from the north
to keep those golf courses green,
the Devil
speaks in backward rhymes, It’s
on the level
