Gabriel Palacios The Spanish Trail Motel

A geode some apostle in the glittered
dresser drawer book
broke into two women
doing rope tricks
on a mirror stage with coiled leads of old Elvis microphones
A Wurlitzer makes time travel
whooshes & you’re close enough to get your skull
scraped out by the metal
on metal of arriving limousines
Tonic bubbles send up fire
You take what anyone will serve you
on a spatula
of this ballroom at the stroke of teargas
in to go bags
up to helpless color Zeniths bolted down dreamless
blue overlooking scaffolds panoramic
What a scam love operates to think
we treat it like the vaguely
Christmas music delousing us
You hear a singer with a beard of ice
cough blood New Year’s morning on a pier
& think of those two women
think you have a pass to sing along their harbor slang
of unspeakable origin

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