"Made in América"

Street window to Paradise
under a blanket of smog, where chiseled mannequins with their suffocating plastic faces
stare at passersby.
On a street vendor’s cart,
bacon strips wrap an American wiener drenched in oil
on an infernal metal plate with a 2” jalapeño on the side.

Upturning an empty stomach—
before the sight. A stench
of dry urine hobbles by. Fingers
reach into a Sesame Street trash can. For breakfast, no
green ham and eggs this morning but a 5” beheaded cold hot dog with a he anorexic’s
wet saliva
on its tip.

In a river
of gringolandia desires. Shakra, Sooki and Sonia’s Lingerie stand side by side in L.A.’s intimate wardrobe corner from blue contact lenses to pirate copies of the
Passion of Christ
(No foreign books, paper and pens
on sale here).

On the road, uninterrupted commercial
billboards—Cherriegirls.com with blonde synthetic wigs trap an American beauty in a
spotless
rearview mirror.