errol miller
BEYOND THE RIO GRANDE
There are no perfect places
with plastic bones
islands of red roses
suppose you knew all along
suppose your lady died in wet straw
with green lizards on her breasts
of course this world affects your poetry
at the cross-roads small villages seem
to glitter like Woolworth diamonds
you can only guess and turn right
where your heart says
devil in your lookinglass
a fine afternoon with easy rain
long ago you quit worrying
about dollars and the children
the last peaceful area you knew
was Mama's dresser drawer
regretfully the news is
that you'll survive a while
then the previously-owned men
of the summer universe
will stuff gauze into their wounds
and enter a city of golden arches
untamed women and rattlesnakes
a few miles below El Paso
where the dilapidated sign
is shaded by willows
and the river is a mere trickle.
