Framed beneath the smoggy, pink sunset,
the gray frankness of lonesome smoggy streets
lets Angelenos know that the city is a heartbreaker.
Good and bad and mean and nice and happy and sad.
Why does there have to be so many people?
How can there ever be enough attention
for each of us?
Dear Native Angelenos,
I have no siblings.
Can we be brothers and sisters?
Do you like me?
Am I pretty?
I like dangerous streets
and safe ones,
too.
I like attention but I also like being ignored.
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