Chicano Poet

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Mojave

He followed two lesbians home from the club,
he tied them up in separate rooms,

and raped them both, conversed with them
in a far off desert

where the grains of sand
took turns being each other.

The mirages sparkled,
they were next of kin,

purple echoes, even blue echoes
begged for rain

or so it seemed in the dire aftermath.
A lizard’s thoughts

do not resemble our thoughts at all,
and assign the wrong history

to a pair of panties.
The cops said they were lucky

not to have been killed
by the desert’s angry heart.

What the hell do cops know?
Waves rattled on the dry lake of their badges.

Both lesbians ended up pregnant---
their boys burst from the sand.

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