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No Exit

July 10, 2008

I sleep near unlocked entries
tempting death and desire
through doorway number nine
A red fire extinguisher
stands lonely guard while
I press patchouli to my skin
break bubbles and foam
with my shriveled sex
I lay prone upon the floor
ear cocked to the voices below
On a wrought iron
rust ridden fire escape
I sip coconut milk and vodka
A burnished cigarette in my palm
From a third world slumber
I rise with the moon
canted ceilings bearing witness
to a frenzied dance between
a dustpan and broom
Piles gathered like
so many sand-dollars
crumbling under
the sea of humanity
I shovel mourning doves
or tiny tumbleweeds like
dust balls and lint.
Grey cotton candy
drifting quickly across
polished wooden planks
that creak with ancient wisdom
I sleep near unlocked doors
behind rice paper scrims
tempting fate and my forgotten future
I howl with silent laughter
daring misbegotten memories
to fetch my stuporous frame
and deliver me home.

Abel Markos Salas

This poem was taken from Lone Oak In December: El Encino Invernal (1999)
Not so very long ago, the pocket-size chapbook was available exclusively at Resistencia Bookstore in Austin, Texas.

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