All posts in "LA Stories"

This

Published November 19, 2017 in LA Stories - 0 Comments

This

This is it.

This now,

This moment.

It’s happening in real time,

right here, in front of us.

Where are you?

I saw you and then you were gone.

I asked after you

and they said that your house was teetering and

defying gravity.

That you were a tight rope walker.

I knew you knew.

Lullaby

Published November 12, 2017 in LA Stories , Mickey - 0 Comments

Lullaby2

Sing me a story, won’t you?

With a melody sweet and plaintive.

Sing to me about the time

you loved so deeply, true and simply.

Before the busy

complications of life

turned your chords into regrets

and your voice into

a hoarse and bitter growl.

Sing me that story

that I know you still remember.

August

Published November 2, 2017 in August , LA Stories - 0 Comments

August

Sometimes, what we deem “fate”

is just foolishness.

She walked in off the street asking

if they were hiring.

And, coincidentally, they were.

She had a good resume, credentials

and, more importantly, she exuded

warmth with an earnest smile.

Just perfect for the front desk person.

No one bothered to do background check

or to call her references.

If they had, they might have gotten some

inkling into the kind of damage

she was capable of inflicting.

And maybe, just maybe they could have

saved themselves some pain.

Diana

Published October 30, 2017 in LA Stories - 0 Comments

Diana

Was a badass guitar player.

Like the huntress,

only her Strat was her bow.

And her solos were the arrows

she shot into the night.

When they gigged at the Bowl,

all the wild children went crazy.

She channeled that

into a blistering lead

that floored it off the bandstand.

The moon shone brightly.

Louisville Slugger

Published October 27, 2017 in LA Stories - 0 Comments

Louisville slugger

“Hey batter, no batter, hey batter, you can’t hit.”

Bat, listen to me. I need you now.

Come here, I kiss you.

Swing and a miss.

I bite you!

Just make contact, that’s all.

Foul ball right field line.

Pretty please,

with sugar on top.

I lick you.

One base hit, It’s all I ask.

The Forger

Published October 17, 2017 in LA Stories , WB - 0 Comments

The Forger

Some of the best criminals

don’t choose it as a career path.

They don’t wake up one morning and say,

“Yeah, I want a life of crime.”

They gradually fall into it one little compromise

and action followed by another until

they’re in too deep.

WB’s Max Ernst sold for five million

and it fooled even the most

discerning collectors and dealers.

It was the dirt he put in the painting

that he collected from an attic in Barcelona.

Just Deserts

Published October 15, 2017 in Jack Sprat , LA Stories - 0 Comments

Just Deserts

God works in mysterious ways.

Rashes, sores and pestilence.

How people love to make him responsible

for all manner of random.

Then search for the meaning why.

Was it retribution or reward?

A death in the family,

the whole block burned but their house was spared.

The tree was struck by lightning and the sap exploded

sending shrapnel towards the house.

In the window was their coat of arms

it took a direct hit and smashed to pieces.

They’re cursed now for a whole generation.

Watching the Trains Go By

Published October 13, 2017 in Hobos , LA Stories - 0 Comments

Watching the trains2

Red ball, line of freight cars

big as a football field.

Standing on the platform,

smoking a cheap cigar.

Thinking about the next stop,

forgetting all the last stops.

No home to settle down,

No savings to fall back on.

There’s no 401Ks for drifters.

History doesn’t care for those who ride the Cadillac grainer.

Ghost Dancer

Published October 6, 2017 in LA Stories , Ophelia - 0 Comments

Ghost Dancer

“You know how old the office is.

She came for a treatment and had a visitation.”

“It was a woman though.”

“Everyone who works there knows Fred.

He’s a spirit that everyone has seen.”

“No one has ever seen a woman before.”

“Apparently, she had some kind of cough.

Hacked and hacked like a smoker.”

“Fred would never smoke. He’s a dancer.

We’ve seen him Tango, I kid you not.”

Rambling Powder

Published September 11, 2017 in LA Stories , Lovro - 0 Comments

Rambling Powder

Lovro had a ritual.

Laid the herbs meticulously on parchment paper,

weighed out each ingredient

and created perfectly arranged packages.

The process was meditative and it calmed his nerves.

Once assembled, he carefully folded each parcel

into a neat package and put them gingerly

into a brown paper bag.

Wrote the patent’s name

on the bag in meticulous print.

Now if he could only spend his life doing this,

everything would be alright.