in the tent all is bedazzle and glitz glitter —
brows painted and bodice upheaving magnificent cups of dea.
the tent is a three hour chaos of frenzy bonanza circus stripe
with christmas chocolate, hors d’oeuvre crostini and espresso to end.
the streets have neon darkness —
three brute chelloveck turning round broadway
and a crippled china town shrugged, bare barren.
her shock clouded the official interrogation.
the storefront two a.m. –
two crowbars looking for a squat
our walls thin and enticing
mercury is spinning backward.
made in india 