One Half LA: Part 1
Somewhere in this sinking there’s a map.
your sunscreen and rubber bands drown
the remaining monarchs. hardens and sheds,
scatters from windows, regroups in migraine
points. grow, whiten, sleep. overlap, increase,
threaten the highways. breaks open, weeping
blue sores swimming with reddened women.
always burning somewhere. too bright to do
anything but lay back and sigh. hotel windows,
poor mirrors, etch letters from a dream language
on the writing desk. hidden under his tan Spanish
carpet. all the flesh colors on his pillows. empty
or sleeping. overcome by their weekend sunburns.
shrivel and hold still. entitled to your own fountain.
covered with white birds, choked with ashes.
Peeps who want their Vispo card, send me your address! Last chance: inktastesbitter (at) yahoo.com