Mambo #1

Gas station: House of the Rising
Water—(yeah, that’s it right there).
staring staring in line, circle movement.

sun, trash in ditch: bags
beads cups
shifting in the wind
glistening in the dirt and trample of feet.
heavy bass quakes treble conical concentrations blast.

black vehicle, all-terrain
jacked-up and turning music into
weapon with Einstein #1;
kids & candy apples & beer.

preteen dancers (have they broken
into song?) white ice-cream style trucks
handing out hot-dogs, funnel cakes, fried
fish, fried sausage, chicken-on-a-stick.

(look the preteen dancers are taking a break)
No, they’re dancing the Tootsie Roll
on Lewis.

(I didn’t mean to asshole! ((yeah asshole
!)))

opposing swamp boogies smash into sirens and synchronized
police cyclists, swimming, swimming
in circles, lines, triangles,
all flashing blue light clashing
feverous motor growls into
the elderly.

transparently flocking
down in deep ditch are the rodents they eat
and eat and eat beer and brightly colored cakes
that make them see funny things on the street:
children fighting with balls larger
than a tricycle or

bike carriage with her big eyes fake in the glasses like a Chinese rice hat; she pedals off racistly carrying a family happy to share
a hat a seat shade: unlike the poor Chinese girl:
she slaves away in her seat
each morning before the sun
she cuts her porridge with water.

after food: red beans, rice
meat w/horseradish sauce, vegetables w/guacamole
and crumbled bread that dribbled
onto shirt.