3/13/92
L.A.

Corners I Should Slow For

It has happened more than once;
That places well known to me,seen in passing
Appear to be the same first sentence
In a rapid,complex conversation that all cities are
The angle of a curve says the same words here
As it does outside Boston or Minneapolis;
A greeting of welcome, well worn and traveled
Said out of habit,yet with an air of care.

Instead of the direct statement of an artery
I find the circuitous question of a surface street
The back way into town,the skyline postcards never see
No traffic to interrupt thoughts,green haze rejects punctuation
This late hour finds no resistance to wheels,advances
Spraycan Miros deny strangers street sign topics
Directing this monologue is a cakewalk…

Entering the neighborhood,my dimly lit hallway
As if I was expected back hours ago
Coming home in the dark,answers not needed
For a sleeping lover who sees you home,
smiles,
and rolls over.

Tonight as Los Feliz reminds me of the past,
Driving Storrow Drive too fast,always too fast
Of a conversation of two people that love never will abandon
Of fear and happiness,fear of happiness…

A relationship with a city of twelve million seems more likely
sometimes
When dormant streets border the sleeping horde
Such ease when friction withdraws it’s grasp
Like the relief when prepared answers go unused
And tears unseen dry in the night.