Mojave winter

Not far from the flare and glare of Vegas
Where the greed-is-good do-gooders get hard done by
A yucca stands like an exorcist on moral high ground
Hyperventillating its expatriation of doom
As the valley is subsumed in shadows and gloom

And the muted Cholla prick your conscience.

Not far from the waste and haste of Vegas
Where flies minesweep for buffet morsels like paparazzi
A hermit hiccuped a haiku
And hot-linked himself to Honey Stars
Lusting for Hazel, the nut
Who does not live here anymore.