I did not realize
why you might
not want to bring
a newborn to Las Vegas.
But, the girls had never.
And I had never.
Did not see the need
to push anything superior
to an economy-sized car.
Or, secure a horse-power
relative to the task of the grade.
But here we were, on 15,
northeast through Saguaro
timpano, in a shoddy capsule,
propelled by the badger of a
Japanese four cylinder.
All that second-hand smoke
depleted our constitutions, and
there was nowhere to push my stroller.
No municipal playgrounds designed
to resemble a bucaneer’s schooner
or makeshift inter-continental bullet.
Not one diaper-changing parapet
or whimsical, interior doubloons
for me to cash at my exit.
Only the promise of a town
started by a radioactive evangelist
and named Zzyzx in honor of
the last word in English.
Next time I cross the Cajon
I want it atop albino elephants,
and deranged ostriches, demanding,
we are your new leaders!
A Spanglish blog dedicated to the works, ruminations, and mongrel pyrotechnics of Yago S. Cura, an Argentine-American poet, translator, publisher & futbol cretin. Yago publishes Hinchas de Poesia, an online literary journal, & is the sole proprietor of Hinchas Press.