in dream i walk PicoUnion
Lydia Lunch hair do
fringe beneath my eyes
the hotdog vendor burns
her inventory
hands in jean jacket pockets
a gold Volvo stops an inch from me
i wear tap shoes to hear a click
because the LAFD sirens sicken me
in the sky there is a subtle sun
negotiating with the trees
one particular tree caught my eye
as he bent in an uproar
almost majestic in size
he blocked me from Hyperion’s
cancerous sighs
chewing Bazooka Joe’s
careful of my side eyeing
in case the fentanyl groupies
demand my food bank box
the city tired as she is
steady her sidewalks remain
in spite of the oppression
‘and the wind began to howl’
protested from a Tennessee plate
Robert England  cabin
suddenly the driver and i lock eyes
as lady Vyvanse begins to ebb inside
my pupils begin to show
but my dream turns out
is a hell bound reality