In grade school we played marbles
along the fence line buffered
against Santa Monica blvd
and the long sprawl of urban traffic
Welcome. What can I do for you?
We raged with infinite light and
infinite hope and infinite…
infinities, gliding through stretches of
graffiti drying in the Hollywood smog
Can I help you, sir?
We, the square jawed fang boys,
our pockets filled with mother’s praise
charging the shining gates
where the Cat’s Eyes reigned
Sir, can I help you?
And just like that
the heavy,
calloused hand of the
Cosmos comes whooshing back!
Yes. I’m sorry.
How much can you give me for this ring?
