Plow the fields with salt, may no seed sprout from whence
migrated offended ex-tenants.
You are approaching something golden like a plane crash or
off-grid casino, something
military buried underground. A wild burro and asbestos
insulation, bone dust.
Tetanus brothels, animatronic prospectors and hoop skirts
mesquite and sagebrush.
You are approaching something golden, you are approaching
a state of pure wealth,
You harvest the child’s blood to cure tuberculosis, you
faithless golden pilgrim.
Your silver spoon digs aqueducts. I’ve seen your kind
before. Dirty silver water charmer.