Member-only story
IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
Las Vegas Confidential
A poem
I’m older than you think.
Ancient man carved stories into the red rock walls that surround me
In the granite and sandstone that cast shadows over the valley of me
There’s still petroglyphic proof of me.
Like a birth certificate showing my true age.
Shhhh… Don’t tell.
I’ve been marshy wetland, parched desert, and points in between
Before the descent of yearning gambling masses
I bubbled with springs and towered grasses
I was named “The Meadows” by someone said to have discovered me.
Though I’d long before come to be.
I was legitimized by the Union Pacific
Illegitimized, Re-legitimized, commodified by
Bugsy, Luciano, and the ilk that followed.
They called me Sin City, Atomic City, then Sin City again.
I’ve been serenaded by Sinatra and Celine,
By Elvis and Elton, by everyone that is anyone.
My towering buildings have been imploded for sport
Live and late-breaking
Celebration, then adoration
As my steel is…
