i. Lax Dog Days

“The earth…had entered the phase when cars wear out
more quickly than the soles of shoes.”
– Italo Calvino, The Daughters Of The Moon

Traffic snarled front of a bus stop near LAX, I hear chuffing sounds

from a brooding Van Gogh sunburst vacancy whose pincered fingers pick

imagined bugs out of an absent left ear while euuing crowds hector

the young woman in some sort of high-pitched heat likely No comprender.

Off in the crabgrass, Messr. picks at hair lice, scratches brindled scalp scabs.

ii. Prostate Reveries

One of those smogged-in drizzly days missing the 405 interchange,

a fraught evening commute sours on the Harbor Freeway cloverleaf.  

I panic because Sweetie forgot to pack my bladder medicines.

Everyone’s pissed when a hearse cuts us off at Cemetery exit.

iii.Mister Lonelyhearts By Way Of Nathanael West Et. Al.

“Driven by a desperate hunger to the arms of a neon light,
the heart is a lonely hunter when there’s no sign of love in sight!”
― Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Mini Cooper a crushed meringue just ahead of my steel blimp, I’m prey 

to day-glo Sgt. Peppers deployed all over Hollywood’s on-ramp.

Caught behind the toy car, windows up to avoid street pagans’ buckets,

surrounding gawkers roll his/hers down to drop in cash contributions

no matter panhandlers’ apparent cause. Which makes me the smug alien 

among lifeforms who can fall in love with everyone a little bit.

Gerard Sarnat

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