"Come as you are' is over the top of the big tent used to lure these souls, from where ever they were, cause the circus came to town from all around...and it just stayed. The richest people in town, are the folk with hardly a penny to their name.
If they ever leave or left, this place would be bereft, as a granite tombstone having...no company. They work where they can, the derelict ships, that once were young and now cry aging groans in arthritic harmony. They still laugh loud in the devil's face, for the misery of his comedy.
They asked me why I came...I didn't and don't have a well oiled answer. Perhaps, I came to die, cause this town is proof, that after you go, there's life below the ground...but nobody's rude enough, to give it away.
It's a secret place, where people wave and look you in the eye. They share a certain 'knowing', that life isn't always about having 'the fancy things'. I tell you, if I can gain their trust, I'll have a treasure in them, and I'll be the richest man...for the company of their simple time.
This poem is dedicated to the people of Deming, New Mexico...my neighbors, and the most amazing survivors of this worlds futile attempts to snuff out 'the joy of life'.
Namaste.
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
My 1960 Traveleze Trailer, which I live in...in Deming
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