Revolution

 

The saguaro blooms then dies
engulfed by a mesquite,
smothering in agonizing moments
under a slowly moving sky.

 

 

 

A ragged man hunches
under the shaded branches,
dirty tears staining his cheeks
as I stare.

 

 

 

I think he is laughing,
as his shoulders shake
in little puffs of dust,
while his sun scarred lips
motion me near.

 

 

 

“Freedom for a dollar!”
His cry, his cheer.
“Would you like some water?”
“Freedom for a dollar!”

 

 

 

I reach in my pocket
and give him his desire.
“Now you are free.
This dollar will trouble you no more.”

 

 

 

He scrambles away,
still chuckling
his madness or mine
I know not which.