Beneath the Center of a Cosmic Sky, poetry by Pablo Cúzco at Spillwords.com
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Beneath the Center of a Cosmic Sky

 Beneath the Center of a Cosmic Sky

written by: Pablo Cúzco

@thetaois

 

When I think
of Las Vegas,
the Vegas
outside the strip,

I think of
dusty mom-and-pop casinos
surrounded by big empty spaces,
long lonely boulevards
and dim streetlamps.

When I’m inside Vegas,
those boulevards become thoroughfares,
lined with homes and courtyards.

A deep pile carpet
of red and pink
Spanish-tile rooftops.

At night
I realize
there is a noise in Vegas,
the sound of freeways
and laughter,
voices calling out
in a joy of life.

Whether
it is the raucous noise
of drunken carouse,
or simply the exhilaration
of an affluence
smack in the middle of nowhere,
is impossible to say.

I stand in the quiet
of a small downtown patio
and listen to the noise.
It is a happy noise
—the noise of life,
joy; and an occasional
squeal of surprise.

Not the rasping cough
of a win on the casino floor,
but the voice of the thrill
of the unbridled American night.

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