and the bucket and broadway

untitled 125

LA, weak, at first,

and insufficient as a city

while speeding past the neighborhoods unknown

and not even thinking of them possibly

except to say “oh that’s Cerritos

and over there is Silver Lake

no I don’t really go there”

but rather confined to the sub-urban

in every town unto itself

a car! a car! I cried as I walked the streets alone

past boys in mini-yards

of grass no good for laying on

sub-rural too and yet

I’m happy there

I never thought my voice would form a word of love

for such a strange hot anti-city

but here it is, from me to that big sprawling basin

I would take your sky high highways and surface sprawl

and dotted pools and heated endless days

the fame which sits on fabled hills

taunting pulses out above the city

strive! strive! the upward slog to unattainable fame

and all the hidden people who don’t care

that their city stands for money, glory, america’s dream

they take their own dreams

ignoring Hollywood in cul-de-sacs to say “oh I don’t really go there”

I would take your unglamour most of all

because I want to own it, sleep in it, and call it my home

I would take it all and trade you for my New York life

for a chance to get to know you better

and call you what you are

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