Houston 2001
In this city of failed dreams
there lies a knowledge of paths
that lead in every direction that the
curious mind would want to venture.
Gold cross of resurrection in
the very midst of chaos.
Medicinal cures and healing hands
closely entwined with the
methamphetamines and promiscuous
fornication of the night.
While Picasso and Renoir
inspire a youth's ambitions,
gang wars steal innocence
by the handful.
A wide range of choices means
48 hours to contemplate
which sin to commit first.
Million dollar homes and
candy-apple red ferraris
create a facade of happiness
as they silently consummate
the adultery and addictions
that make them feel complete.
A Montrose prostitute brushes past
a local evangelist, laughing aloud
as she recalls that he
was last week's meal ticket.
A depressed father wonders
"Why me God?", thinking of
yesterday's amputation, as he
stares out the hospital
window, seeing the unaffected
world below.
A cute young girl driving
a Lexus, in one hand a cell phone,
a drink in the other, is unaware
of the cursing man in the
beat-up Pinto behind her.
He fingers the pistol lying
in the passenger seat, as
he daydreams of
pointing it at the slow
b_tch ahead of him and
blowing her brains out.
My own reality comes back to me
and I realize that none of this
matters to me.
It's merely an observation
of the Hell I drove through
today.
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