XOXO Los Angeles

The stars are wandering around you. You're not at sea
but the stars are wandering around you anyway. This
presupposes a lot. By any reckoning, you're dancing
with your secretary by the wood stove. Above you,

space junk perambulates. The world's tallest
mountain possesseth oxygen tanks. There lies
Los Angeles looking like a coat-of-sable with eyes on.
No snakes to rattle & all coyotes presently occupied
as taxidermied coyotes.

By all accounts you have a hand to play. It is shit luck
to live under a commercial flight pattern, to've shaken
from your sleep halfway around the globe in a swollen
room on the Bay of Whatever. You look into the swollen
Bay of Whatever and your heart

throbs. You're not at sea but the sea is everywhere
untouched around you. The sky turns out birds one by one.

Copyright © 2007 Ian Harris All rights reserved
from Redivider
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission