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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