with a spliff-spear
through the cutting salt flats
and the stinging buoy-sea.
numb tongue from
impatient coffee sips.
hash in bricks like gold.
babe-monsters toting yardlong guns.
ah, to be in the Holy Land
with a deck of Hoyl cards
and a head scarf and a couple of
shekels for the cigarette crane machine game.
hide your wine from the muslims--
they'll just get uppity--
but pass the hummus and
turn the wheels toward the desert.
