The burro on the slope below
paws the dust to smoke, red and gray,
makes a meal of kaolin, brush.
He's been there for months,
happy, hmmm...so enough,
no fences keeping him in, or out –
the only straw the two of you
share a sip from.
Come, now! Enjoy the sunset.
It's not a punishment.
None of this is, not even the tweezers.
We both know a cactus plucked clean
tightens the talons in this vulture's bed.
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