AND AS I SLOWLY TURN TO WALK AWAY
The razzmatazz boys take the softball game into extra innings
humming a little Benny Goodman and inhaling some sloe gin fizzes.
The strange girl with the bum ticker waits for something tumultuous
to come to her on a Tuesday in broad daylight near the pet clinic.
The film crew lights up the evening at the period gas station on
North Lake while the starlet does her best Marilyn Monroe in
the backseat of a vintage Rolls.
The sidewalks are sagging under the weight of horrified buccaneers
who have been given shovels for swords as dazzling dirt clods
fly into oncoming traffic.
The hapless young husband attempts to dig a trench around each
rose bush before taking a beer break as his gallant young wife
climbs the ladder to the highest point in the galaxy of weeds.
The retired schoolteacher flexes her tattoos on Mother's Day under
the shade of a gazebo with ghosts gardening in the geometry of family.
The cynical senior voter predicts that California will never
stop relying on propositions to make matters worse.
The bag lady of Ventura pushes her cart full of pelicans to
the fish market where the summer wind pulls its weight in shrimp.
The midnight coyotes rush north to drink from a glistening trench
that has been cut near exposed sprinkler heads.
The homeless man returns to his side of the philosophical
divide with a skinny dog under his feet.