gold line passes through there

four tribes meet and they have been for longer than i can ever know

one Meso one Afro one Europe one Orient peoples beautiful all

same hearts one dream different strokes same same same

the bridge is there she lays on her mighty back we cross not just concrete slabs but worlds too

colors flavors scents labor dignity and the human ego of course

united by segregation of their color segregated from each other by being throw an occasional bone starving of their soul

but upon closer honest sober observation on days of rainbows i can see where the tears are stitched to form the Nation where i stand

we are Los Angeles

riots marches torn down houses strikes children centers Lakers unity churches merchants Mexican chop suey Columbian Korean fusion Woody’s ribs Lupe’s tacos Italian house Red Hot Chili Peppers surfers boarders models ballers

the four directions on the 4th street bridge and what it’s come to be and what we’ve become by it is the rainbow children of our Lady

so before the Hall keepers House gablers blues reds and judge and juries request your seats mind and remember

Porciuncula and her kids do lead and ever will this vast kaleidoscope table