Palm Sunday in Spring Valley, Las Vegas

The scientists say / it will all wash away 
-“Sin City,” written by Gram Parsons & Chris Hillman

Oblique light, pink-tangerine,
articulates the trees,
Alice’s cardboard cut-out mountains,

our colloquialisms,
scaly trunks of palms,
and dusty white underside of leaves.

The last day of August,
summer’s evening, stops.

Even if I could not see you,
I would take the shirt off
my back for you
to save your feet from the hot sand
around the palms.

I would save the palm 
leaves around the pool,
if I could.

Step on my shirt
and leave,
while Gospels continue,
logos moves
down Tropicana,
and I am not invited to dinner.

You curse the roadside fig tree
for its unready fruit.

If you had only given me more 
time, Lord,
I would have let you 
take the best of me and leave me bare.
I would have let you.