taos, refugee haven

home for survivors

of the sixties and seventies

whose brains remain marginally intact

astrologers, blue eyed shamans, bead workers

the spiritually addled, artists in search of talent

the poor, the addicted, the dispossessed

live in a constant flow of tourists

entitled women heavy with turquoise and silver

comfortable in Mercedes leather seats

staring uncomprehending

at the befuddled earth children

clutching crystal talismans to ward off

the evil effects of toxic jet vapor trails in the sky

locals, their roots in the old spanish and indian ways

go about their business knowing this too will pass

Copyright Michael Douglas Scott