My finger nails are long
and dirty,
but I won’t bite them tonight.
I’ve taken many stupid breaths in my life
and I took a few more on this dark night
in Downtown Los Angeles.
I high five the drags, buy coke from one,
curse gentrification with the Mexicanos,
who have to deal with the white privileged trash
being ushered out of the Ace Hotel at last call.
Walking around with risk in my belly
and cocaine in my nose,
I consider a red eye to New York
and even more surprising, I contemplate
a morning flight back to Boca
to try to sweep an L off her feet.
What’s possible in these quiet moments
is loud as shit, in brains and beating hearts
all too stupid or scared to take a chance.
I am so afraid that I am not afraid;
the fear becoming natural like breathing or blinking,
so ingrained that I barely feel it
until I am alone waiting for an Uber.
What’s possible on Hollywood Blvd
is different than what’s possible on Broadway,
but the hope is the same,
and I hope to find it because I’ll look anywhere.
Even an empty street at 4am in Downtown Los Angeles.
where I walk with greater ghosts,
all trying to get back to life
and wake up where they’re meant to be.