A city for sale

by Aleza Freeman

Elvis mugshot2

Image via Wikipedia

On the Boulevard,
silicone implants and fanny packs
ceremonially gather at the altar of
LED and neon idols.
They wander through the desert, past
a pyramid, a castle, the Eiffel tower
drowning their sins in yard-long margaritas,
exchanging sacred vows in the church of Elvis.
Porn slappers peddle smut on the corner
in florescent green T-shirts reading
“Ladies direct to you!”

Let them eat shrimp cocktail
and prime rib, fill our collection basket with
the fruits of their labor. We’ll build
yet another towering shrine
on a foundation of imported marble, tinted glass
and drunken regrets.

To sell this city we’re selling out,
while those who dirty their hands
to create the fantasy from bricks and mortar
are losing their homes
and stripped bare.

Originally published Sep. 29, 2009. Re-published today for Monday Poetry Potluck.

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