From dream factory
To nightmare landscape
And all but used up,
The hot LA nights
Spiked with a Santa Ana wind,
Capote, Faulkner, Mailer, Fitzgerald, et al
Haunting the many-faceted gin-mills,
Looking for characters
For the books they were soon to write,
Hockney hobbling to
The marijuana store
To smoke away his many ailments,
Drinking Chai tea with the other lunatics,
Down Venice way
The ancient muscle men on Muscle Beach
And pull-ups that demean them,
Hollywood writ large on the hills
And a jaded sign on Santa Monica pier
Saying ‘Route 66 ends here’.
2 thoughts on “LOS ANGELES”
That’s highly atmospheric Tom and the lines are so well tuned they just purr along.
Thank you John. The pics were taken about 3 years ago, and the poem written some months later. I must admit I was pretty impressed with LA!