Distraction Under the Sad Sonoran Sun
Two portable radios
on two different stations,
one American sports talk radio,
the other Mexican music, sit side
by side on the outside window sill
as a kind of fucked up compromise
while my Mexican wife and I work
at grunt chores in the yard,
pretending we are free
of financial pressure,
free of the imminence
of old age,
free of the hatred in our hearts
and the numbness of our fingers
and have only the sunflowers
and arugula to worry about.
Horror Sleaze Trash 