In LA, it is only acceptable to walk
if you are in a parking lot
or on crack.
I rode the bus for the first time yesterday,
31 years, and a glass pipe hit my shoe.
It was clearly used.
I took a photo.
The boys on the bus talk about parkour.
It isn’t done right if it is done inside.
You have to find an obstacle to overcome,
not make an obstacle to overcome.
I thought it was about moving in a straight line
despite obstacles, not finding or making them.
But I spend more time finding or making obstacles,
so clearly, I’m not doing it right.
I see I puzzle the drivers,
walking on narrow pathways between yards and pavement,
what passes for sidewalks,
because I look neither drunk nor poor.
I am drunk on life, but poor in spirit.
Tomorrow, I’m going to rent a car.
Then I’ll see LA the way it was supposed to be seen.
At a distance, behind glass, like a movie set.
And then the actors will make sense,
I will receive my lines, be fitted for my role.
Next week, I’m flying back home.
Which is nowhere near where here is.