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.
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