BIRTHDAY

Two women sitting at JJ's
and dust passing through the cracks in the pavement
greet me in passing through these parts
otherwise empty and barren, tumbleweeds
overrated but otherwise accurate,
all mechanisms of the ages.

In the cafes, beside gas stations
dust drifts through televisions,
lingers in the two women's posturing,
in the social standings;
dust blows back and forth
in the exchanges courtships and wisdom
of this dead town.

I'm not old, to the contrary,
but this place, this era
is wilted and barren,
and to alarms in this body
I find a young person incongruous
with this dead town.


-r