my dogs are barking.
two concerts in one night.
what am I, 25 again?
I feel young tonight.
tomorrow I will limp to the post office.
from the Moroccan Lounge
to the Lodge Room,
In and Out Burger
to Taco Bell.
even my rights are wrong.
reconciling my wishes,
or lack thereof, out west,
where there are no bugs
and no humidity.
preservation is a postage stamp.
I really hope
I can always do cool stuff
and bring Lenny along,
creating her own muse-like bumpercar.
left and leaving, lost in Los Angeles poems.