it's africa midwinter
the sun sparkling down on us all
swaying from side to side
to paul simon's stolen diamonds
i stare at the one-armed bandit bench
playing wheel of fortune
as barbaric little monkeys play
or fight for supremacy
signified by whatever plastic trinkets can be wrenched free
and us
behind the cage
pretending civilization as animals
pour out of the silhouettes of salt shakers and condiment bottles
onto our plates
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i. i sit quietly watching the man seeking my soft spots with nimble fingers sliding in the needles, head, neck, belly, arms i'm froz...
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