Amphibious morning skates along the maroon wall
carrying orange blossoms
in outstretched arms. Barbed wire veins,
strung on iron pikes, loop,
Counter to my sense of economy,
the text contains too many adjectives.
In the Central Valley, day begins
with cries of listo.
Orchids perfume villas.
Dreamers, unable to wake from a restless sleep
sense storms, rags of wet smoke
obscuring the vista.
This poem has been written by a guest
who fears the servants,
not because they are dispossessed political subjects;
instead, like the matron
his hostess, he has
no reason to give offense
and so abides.