Off I-15, Northeast of Las Vegas

It's colder than I thought it'd be
Out in the desert, watching as the
Sky's edge goes to red from black.
I cannot say why I am here. I may
Have fled the circus lights, the din
And madness of the Strip, and
All without that it's distilled:
The wealth that comes from credit
Cards, the worship of celebrity,
The yeoman's hopes compressed,
Distorted. No one still believes
That honest labor is a winning
Way. A lucky number's what
You'll need to rise above the
Squalid life that you and all
The others on the clock and
Deep in debt now lead. This isn't
That America described in social
Studies books. It isn't young or
Strong or earnest. It's a gaudy,
Jaded thing, a suit with nothing
Left inside, and that may be why
I am here. The sun's appeared.
I'm getting warmer. All around
Is emptiness, but undisguised,
An honest kind, which brings
Some peace to me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 49 times
Written on 2014-01-09 at 13:17

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