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LA Calling
@alittlebitwinchester
Spike sat outside the Griffith Park Observatory, looking down over the hills lit below. He wasn’t using one of those viewing machines, he just stared at the city below, massaging his hand, to make sure his nerves worked properly.
It had been a quiet night, so he’d left the loud clubs and the nightlife for a bit of quiet, to think about what had happened recently when he said aloud, “Is there a reason you’re staring at the back of my head?”
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"Location LA" - Martha Ronk
Never arriving in a city missing in locational drift plates shifting under building facades and whipped décor, seas rising and falling at the edge of amusements and surf. The migrations migrating elsewhere, monarchs lost on their way south, children coming north in droves on their way to anywhere else. The city of lost souls blowing in the Santa Ana winds and people who are not us no matter who we are. Where is she now, he asks, what ever happened to the girl named for a saint, the one with the ankle tattoo the one who dropped out, lost out, & only just arrived.
Never arriving in a city missing in locational drift plates shifting under building facades and whipped décor, seas rising and falling at the edge of amusements and surf. The migrations migrating elsewhere, monarchs lost on their way south, children coming north in droves on their way to anywhere else. The city of lost souls blowing in the Santa Ana winds and people who are not us no matter who we are. Where is she now, he asks, what ever happened to the girl named for a saint, the one with the ankle tattoo the one who dropped out, lost out, & only just arrived.
Poem of the day: January 14, 2015 Location LA // Martha Ronk
