Los Angeles at Night
Romulus pours molten incandescence down
a concrete overpass &
it slithers across ribbons of asphalt,
(those swollen ruby demon’s eyes)
yellow specks of light begin
to shine in bright jack-o-lantern grins
navigate the folds of her silken streets.
your mouth’s dry
cause the desert’s nearby &
everybody wants to swim
in hips of rosebud
(but the waves crash in cursive)
she discarded two palmtree stalks
like a pair of stilettos &
ran naked into Neptune’s inkstained arms.
so you climb a hill
to pick sour grapes &
drink silver streams of moonlight.