Chicano Poet

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Betty’s Escape Pod

Betty’s little skirt
torn all the way
up to her hips.

The policemen and firefighters
salivate in a corner
of the dust and doom.

No one can be rescued
and even cartoon eyes
can be blinded by sight.

The fireboats
lift their stones into place.
Betty’s chest bounces

in God’s face
as she runs,
convinced it’s the end, and then some.


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