POEMS ABOUT ADULTHOOD

LOS ANGELES IN OCTOBER

L.A. smoulders in the Santa Anas
Like embers stirred by a hot breath
Liable to leap into flame at any moment.
The setting sun burns in the Santa Anas

Gleaming off cars and windows
Painting everything de los Muertas orange.
Palm trees rise black in the Santa Anas
Sharp outlines against the crimson sky

Burned silhouettes rattling dryly.
Death rides in on the Santa Anas
Desert-dessicated grinning husk
Gasping with breathless humor.

DOG

“Pull over,” I demanded
As she cried out with horror
And the car blindly swung to the curb,
I left her in the darkness
And walked to the center of the street
Where the dog panted in pain.
Others joined me;
I shouted for a blanket
So we could pick it up.
It howled as we wrapped it
And moved it to the grass.
Streetlights glittered on the blood
That coated its mouth.
When its owner drove it away
I saw dampness shining on my sleeve
So I rolled it up out of sight
And returned to the car.
“It’s over now,” I said,
And drove us back.
Later that night I stood
In her carport with a flashlight
And wiped off the stains
And plucked away the fur.

ANOTHER NIGHT AT GAZZARI’S

An ex’s black leather,
Tattered jeans,
Battered boots,
Cheap t-shirt.
Homeless shaking cups.
Dyed hair like parrots,
Dead eyes like addicts.
Neon lights,
Pounding metal,
Cheap liquor.
Shoulders rub,
Hackles rise,
Glass hits plastic,
Cigarettes tumble into cups.
The shrieking call
To the pit --
Swinging fists,
Blunt shoulders,
Sharp elbows,
Pounding feet.
Back and forth.
Where there is pain
There is still life.
Blows like kisses,
Leap of faith,
Into waiting hands
That batter
But catch;
Always there.
Burning eyes,
Bared teeth,
Seldom rend their own.
Lights dim,
Smoke and vomit,
Used condoms and urine.
Parking lots,
Silent streets,
Eyes watch,
Aches are talismans
And leather armor
Wards off the foe
That settles back
And holds out a dirty hand.
Santa Anas
Rattle trash across the empty street
Like a dying man’s dry laughter.