L.A. Time Warp
First poem in a long while. Scribbled on a pastry bag while driving from the airport. Rewritten and now, impulsively posted on the internet.
Here you go, readers…
L.A. Time Warp, once again.
As you make your way among
White-washed freeways
Pale blue cargo truck’s shimmering chrome
A silver plane hovering like a lost bird.
What are these train tracks for?
You know that there’s a woman wiping
Canned red sauce on a faded apron,
Or chewing dates in her sun-lit yard.
While a Greyhound bus speeds towards Fresno. But
What are these train tracks for?
The smog hums above the buildings,
It’s louder than the trees,
That you run across on your concrete mile.
Alone,
Kicking at tire rubber,
Pulling at the spokes of dead branches,
Resting in the shade of a bright-green, barbed-wire-wrapped sign.
I heard there’s an old shipyard here somewhere,
And tell me what are these train tracks for?
