A current crosses the darkness,
stirring the last dry shreds of life.
Upwind, a Buick stalks the edge of the pavement,
her voice a gentle rumble in her throat.
Her eyes simmer like the smoke snarling up
from a hammered anvil.
The neon tattoos her skin so it is
striped orange, a strobed tiger, crouched, impatient.
Feather and ivory. A slow, livid burning
in the undergrowth.
Just under the awnings they flash phosphorescence
flamingo flamingo and then vanish into air.
From the antlered shadows a drunkard lurches.
His legs spindle under him like a newborn gazelle.
The window blinds drift and flutter,
Somewhere on the savannah something watches
with incandescent eyes.
Labels: Residencia en la Tierra