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
The Ace Hotel Notebook 