(I found one of my mom's old notebooks from the eighties. her handwriting is atrocious but I'm transcribing her poetry)
************
Pinched and twisted
In the dead of L.A. –
Lost and more lost, she wanders,
Not one word exchanged or offered-
Bury and buy
Again + again
He exits
Dripping gold
Silent and dripping indifference
Peripheral vision
Revealed him
Not to her.
Sheer wonder in
Compromise .
He’s glowing rays
Of hate, death.
Could his meaning have been
Tender curiousity?
The air is cool
The sky is late
The sidewalks are covered in
Pages from desk calendars
You (we) tread over days and days
Of last year
In which something happened – something –
Lived and died –
Putting me in a bleak park –
Another lost day and dead years
And dear but dead l.a.
December 28 1989
