Hell is expensive. This is my first thought as my plane lands in Las Vegas. The Luxor hotel's glass pyramid seems dangerously close to the runway's edge, as do its chocolate-and-gold sphinx and rows of shaved palms. I wonder if these rooms tremble when jets land. Behind the Luxor are mountains kissed by dust the hue of bone; to its left lies the Strip, where color is so bright it looks like it has died, …showed first 75 words of 4234 total…

…showed last 75 words of 4234 total…blue is the neon of the Stardust Hotel lit each evening. It is the blue of the darkened Congo Theater before Kenny Kerr performs, and the blue leftovers of sunsets that attend suicides. It is how poverty creates its own blue skies, hoping God will be kind in a town leaving nothing to chance. It is the whispered question before the trigger is pulled, the last blue moment when all we can ask is why.