Needles has barely a one ~ pipes prevail
providing a fleeting ecstasy from
the reality of played out businesses
and crack hotels ~ a gritty realism.
An ironic twist of fate
brings a misnomer for a name
to a burnt out town ~ on the edge
of existence ~ as a railroad ambles through it.
On a barren landscape ~ this town sits
the merciless sun baking
and sucking the life from it
as an octopus does its prey.
A triumvirate of evil ~ Laughlin, Bull Head City and Needles
seem lost in Christ’s Wilderness
as a river as old as ancient Egypt
brings life ~ painfully forestalling death.
A lesser of evils ~ gaming, crystal meth or smoking crack
is your choice ~ based on your beliefs
plus your locale or the avoidance of such
brings fleeting salvation here.
I see that Needles is a town. At first I could not understand the first line, but on reading the rest of the poem, it fell into place.Wonderfully descriptive writing.
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