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Tuesday 5 March 2019

Vegas


Vegas

Across an open trackless waste of nothing, big emptiness of sand and grit
bare, featureless but for random rocks, burned-brown mineral wilderness
tinted yellows, golden ochres, burnished reds
small, sharp shadows etched into the earth by a relentless sun that scorches,
torches out its solar energy, unchanging, fierce and blazing

crumbled endless horizon, heat-hazed beyond the cactus-pocked wasteland,
desert spikes the only landmarks in the monotonous sprawl
fit for snakes and scorpions, bleached-white bones scoured and scrubbed,
sand-blasted testament to creatures that once expired, fried alive, tired and shrivelled
beaten by heat and thirst, exhausted years before
in vain attempts to cross the arid expanse

the dust eddies and whorls aimlessly
tormented, driven by staccato wisps of wind, mindless in their rolling, roiling,
un-tamed in their blowing, drifting, piling, through the thin air of nothingness
scraping, scratching all before them, hot-raked, roasted, parched and toasted
in this waterless wasteland of nowhere

and the vast-canvas painted azure mid-day sky a painful, brittle, acid-hard mono-blue
shimmers unending, clear and cloudless, oxygen-free and static-loaded
an all-embracing carapace of glare mantling over distant concrete structures
The Strip, Caesar’s Palace and Luxor, white and crimson neon ads rolling
enticing punters from hot sidewalks to step inside their cool and dark interiors
for cold beers, slots and tables, the flimsy-dressed hostesses shivering
in the chill of dam-powered air-conditioning

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2019

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