Poem: L.A. is my city

Never arriving in a city missing in locational drift.
Plates shifting under building facades and whipped décor,
Seas rising and falling at the edge of amusements
And surf.

The migrations migrating elsewhere,
monarchs lost on their way south, children coming north
In droves on their way to anywhere else.

The city of lost souls blowing in the Santa Ana winds
And people who are not us no matter who we are.
Where is she now, he asks, what ever happened to the girl
Named for a saint, the one with the ankle tattoo
The one who dropped out, lost out, & only just arrived.

No Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.