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Los Angeles

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A dense blanket of smog lies over Los Angeles,
Interwoven with orange, gray, puce
It sits,
Omniscient,
Over the city’s skyscrapers,
Prostitutes,
Movie stars,
Graffiti’d homes.

It sends it’s nebulous tendril arms
Down to the throats of L.A’s denizens
And strangles us;
Rushes down our throats,
And embraces our lungs
In a carcinogenic hug.
It puts the cigarettes in our hands,
The caffeine in our systems,
The virulent men in our beds.

There is a constant vaporous crown
Around our heads and houses,
And we’ll never know it’s there.





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