CACTUS VERSE FROM ARIZONA

A pre-dawn morning in a desert valley

Feels like a perfect air-conditioned room -

The purest air - without a bed in sight

That wouldn’t have a needle or a snake,

Or Valley Fever hidden in the sand.

 

It is a landscape full of ancient words

Like poetry that never gets performed

Because the message has no human hug:

 

“People don’t belong here”

 

The dawn begins to tinge with silhouettes

Of tall Saguaros like a freeze-framed army;

At first you make out one, then two, then 10

Then 10 or twenty thousand up the mountain.

As if the biggest chorus line of all sang

 

“People don’t belong here”

 

The point gets proven as the full sun smiles

And worthless scattered brains of homes take shape

In and amongst an otherwise pure scene.

The cactus know that most come for their health

(Provided they have air-conditioned homes);

 

Cause now that sun feels like a heating vent from Hell

That only a Saguaro bears no sweat.

 

“People don’t belong here”

 

“I know, I heard you. I’m going inside now

To have some coffee with my mom and write this

In memory of hating her arthritis

And how I wish you all could build a wall,

And have the privacy that you deserve.”