When I'm bombed, I stretch like bubble gum.
We sat out on the deck
and watched the pass
Of fast and flashy cars move slowly down
The crowded street--why do they buy those price
Intensive cars with a thousand ponies
Beneath each hood--to sit at lights
Those cars would
Prefer the open, loping spaces of
, only a few miles away
To the noisy hubbub
of some desperate night
Those people have turned their ponies
Wads of chrome
d-up, supercharged bubble gum
A west-coast weekend on Rodeo Drive
With old friends from the old world, spending this,
My final night
That look like tethered
ponies, tending to
The busy, inner, empty feeling--I
May never see the sun go down again
, but I'm glad I saw it once.
One tethered pony roars, screams, and takes off--
The falling sun
left behind--to the night
And the desert--headed for Las Vegas
But until then, that pony is free to
Tear across the quickly cooling desert
As it was surely meant to do.
My glass, a toast
, and look back to the sun.