Driving into the city of Los Angeles
the high rises cast a shadow
across the crowded boulevard
Walls covered in graffiti
some artistic, most criminal-
mark territories visitors will never see.
A city mashed with eateries and bakeries
sushi, empanadas and pupusas,
all within walking distance.
Three slots for a quick stop
then back on route, through the city
in one-way traffic, past rows of taxi cabs,
and underground parking for $35.
Echoes of machines and melancholy
Wide eyed tourists and city dwellers
reflected in the walls of each glass tower,
icons destroyed in every disaster flick.
Immigrants and other disenfranchised
gather along skid row butted up
against the business district-
silk suits hiding tattered souls
"Hey buddy, can you spare a buck?"
A few more intersections then Hollywood,
the stage for many pretenders, who live
in gated mansions atop Beverly Hills
away from the daily grind
shopping along Rodeo Drive
working hard to keep their fame.
Upset stomach from diverse cuisines,
headache from too many strangers
craving a piece of the American dream.
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