The Vision

no more buffalo or pigs who speak in latin for they have all drowned in the sea of galilee or perhaps been flushed down the Tijuana pipeline. floating, crossing over to some strange land. all that is left now is for their silhoette's to be advertised on the sides of cheap diet soda cans. they float by together past brightly enameled porcelain that seems to mean something to someone. the virgin of guadalupe shakes and foams at the mouth looking up to receive her vision, but all she receives is wax and concrete. no more time for bison or swine who melt in between the thin shadows of unreveranced barbed wire. miles and miles of rusty wires twisted. incarcerated in their youth they decide to cover their skins with tattoo's. some have tragic kings and queens twisted around their hooves. others have vibrant orange koi swimming along their spines. soon however, however soon... the rains will fall and wash them all away. maybe a transient on the street will play the horn lowly. maybe a priest will make a gesture.