(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