Housing developments metastasize into the eastern hills. There are roads where, six months ago, there were none, and streetlights where once only cholla and mojave yucca shimmered at dusk. I cross the river into a gazillion-watt kaleidoscope, emerald, silver, bright pink and gold, Colorado Belle, Pioneer, Golden Nugget, a cowboy two stories high waves day and night, and you open the door to your room with a computerized card. The sidewalks are thronged with old couples in matching pastel jogging suits. Old women lean on walkers.
Old men lean on their wives.
I park my truck, grab my lucky bucket of nickels, and hustle toward the Golden Nugget. A hound-faced guy opens the smoked glass door. I walk through into a jungle. Impossibly turquoise water spills over polymer boulders. Triple canopy vinyl trees arch over me.