On the West Side,
Sunshine,
Windows down,
My arm glows,
It’s the warmest chill.
Oceanic breath on my face,
Brackish and sweet,
Through my hair, down my shirt.
Boardwalk,
Excited feet, excited eyes,
I stand at the edge and see infinity.
Blink once, blink twice,
Hold it.
I open my eyes and I’m on the 405 going North again.
Down in the Valley,
Stale heat,
A proper, inborn sauna.
Kids play,
The illusion of suburban bliss
Is needed in the mishmash of this major Manhattan.
Walk with me past,
The library, the theater, the retirement home,
You’ll smile, laugh, and sweat.
In or out?
Please don’t leave it to me,
Leave it to Beaver.
Blink once, blink twice,
Hold it.
I open my eyes and I’m on the 101 going South again.
Up Sunset Blvd,
Down Hollywood Blvd,
Signs, stores, silhouettes, stilettos, superman, and sex.
Flashing lights to the gaudy sights,
Gene Kelly would roll over if he knew,
Katharine Hep would exhume herself.
These concrete hands are dusty,
The paint on that cinema peels,
I watch as the silver-screen-streets meet bums, whores, and bloody feet.
After feeling this, tasting it, and touching,
Something enchants me:
I think it’s the veracity of what has been, and the autonomy of what could be.
Blink once, blink twice,
Hold it.
I open my eyes and I’m on the 110 going South again.
I stop.
You stop.
We stop.
Its 4:48 pm and we all know what that means.
Pop in a cd.
Blast the radio.
Roll those windows down.
Light a cigarette.
Turn up the volume.
Steer the wheel with your knees.
Turn up the volume some more.
Embrace the inevitable.
I Stop.
You stop.
We stop.
Downtown.
I’m fond of the towering giants,
And curious of what transpires in them.
There’s excitement for the game,
Anticipation for that band, that musician, that line up,
And the crowd’s expectancy floods my every pore.
Stop by Seven Grand,
Let the whiskey, scotch, or bourbon,
Ease your mind and soul.
There’s a history in this place,
A young one,
But what were you doing in 1781?
Blink once, blink twice,
Hold it.
I open my eyes and I’m on the 10 going West again.
I’ve got one last stop,
Bear with me, just hang tight.
I’m taking Mulholland Dr. in the middle of the night.
Winding through the hills,
Look to your left, after this bend, your right,
A sea of lights, illuminated lives, bright, dazzling souls.
From high above, this place is united,
So I steer with,
No destination, no agenda, just drive, drive, drive.
One last thought to cap my volume, the apex of my tome:
New York may be my one-night-stand,
But Dammit! This is home.
Blink once, blink twice,
Hold it.
I open my eyes and I’m home again.
