this perpetual smell of burnt rubber
on my way home and walking down the
street to latino market on the corner
near my house. my LA of burnt stars and
burnt street signs, weathered tail lights
and gaze eyes; weathered sighs.
in the backseat i looked back at her
in my rear view mirror responded to her
"why" she said and i said "i don't know i don't
think hollywood is for me, man."
and julia too, with her face toward the open window
of an alvarado/sunset breeze says it's all so diluted,
so far away from the point.
sailing down the boulevard, catching all the greens,
getting in bed late after spin the
bottle, after skirting up the alleyway to my
friend's tiny house where i left my
wine bottle in the kitchen, my portrait
on the kitchen wall and we await nick who'll
be arriving by bus on thursday afternoon and
not a day too soon and it's alright - it's ok, it's all just
for a season anyway and we write letters everyday.
and it's been a time warp of backwards
and forwards but who cares anyway
because you can't take it with you and each time
i compare myself to someone else i lose
a little bit of my soul so i made a deal i
wouldn't do that anymore. i'd rather sell
the shit i don't need to make ends meet than
be stuck in your cubicle six days a week.
and aren't we all just waitin' for things to turn
around? occupy LA is hollerin' just
ten minutes away,
but it's also right here - right where i'm standing
and don't you ever want to walk up to some
people and say "it must be nice to be you"
but we are all fighting great battles
and if it's not this one it's that one,
if it's not here it's there,
and soon the first will be last,
and you can't run away from it jamie i keep
saying and "i'm hangin' by a thread" she keeps
saying and me too.
drivin' across the 10 freeway with those
looming blue black clouds over pasadena
mountains - hollywood sign, griffith
observatory shining under heavenly golden
sun, green hills where i hear my old souls
of past days that sing through the night,
through the graveyards, through the
chainlinked fences, the parking lots
and the small groups waiting for buses in
the dark. and i'm saying fuck this nostalgia
and embrace the morning.
new eyes and new jaw
and a new way to feel your tongue in
your mouth and a new way to smile and
a new reason to smile,
and is it ok to feel ok?
and i've been thinking what is this place
about anyway, these streets, these homes,
everyone tryin' to make it out on top,
or to come out even. to be discovered.
yes and maybe i'll be discovered in the
food 4 less on western, maybe the liquor
store by robbie's house. maybe. maybe.
but maybe the point is we live and die here.
we eat and love here. get married and
baptized here. smoke and drink here.
everyday wake here.
and getting discovered
in the in between.
i'm discovering me. and the best thing i
can do in this season is keep revealing
my self to myself.
i gave a different kind of kiss today
and sold my guitar today.
i don't need them.
i saw a bird fly away today and the sea
calm it's waves today.
my feet hurt today.
i was an open field today.
i buried my friend today.
i closed my eyes and the cement
became one in my veins,
rushing like fast mad traffic,
like intersections about to
explode, like blurring streetlights
of red, yellow, green and every
color in between and the whish,
breeze of the color in me and
slow down, breathe
walk with your arms sideways and
play a new game and see the winds
change and be a new brave.
and oh my city, be still my heart.
protect me under the lamplight
by my parked car.
remind me that each moment is truth,
that love can find you.
that definitions are sometimes needless,
that your books hold seeds,
that you need less.
remind me of the boldness that i have
or that sweet is sometimes sad.
oh, remind me that i still have more
to say, that he will find a way.
be still my heart and protect me under
the lamplight by my parked car in
my city while i wait for a change