Poem: Love and Los Angeles

Love and Los Angeles


When I wrote that book

Love shimmered in the air around me

Just out of reach

All the time

As I scaled those Berkeley hills

With my English books

In my peach silk slip dress and cowboy boots

As I hid in my room in the white

house with the roses

And the horrible kitchen filled with dirty dishes

Love was Los Angeles

Far away but real

Something I would have eventually

It was pink and  gold

It smelled like jasmine

It revved like a baby blue convertible Thrunderbird

down the highway among the lights

While music played

imprinting itself on my mind with the powerof something heard while the brain is still developing

Consuming every melancholy morsel fo beauty and promise

Now almost thirty years later

It lives in my house in the form of two teenagers

It visits me in the form of my friends

With lentils and rice

It makes me smoothies and juices

and sits with me to talk

Looking exactly like my ex husband


I'm not writing a book about it

To make girls cut and bleach

their hair and move to Los Angeles

Dripping with glitter

and stars


Love's no longer glamourous or out of reach

but it always leaves

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