Poem: This is my city, this is L.A.

I remember the dazzling lights in the cold chilly night

The gleams of white and yellow lights bellow the tippy top of hazard hill

You can smell the sweet scent of churros when the flamboyant street vendor goes by

You can smell the rich history of the buildings as you pass by the deserted building

You hear the roar of traffic on the I-710

The chatter of people on the streets talking about their families back at Mexico

You feel the bumpy sidewalks that are littered with thrash

The sensation of air flowing throw your hair

This is my city

This is L.A.