from Glendale to Marina Del Rey,
but it is probably Danielle's fault
with her sneaky hot bod
and sexy Instagram poems
which I hope are about me.
The coyotes howl in Culver City,
as I party with Nisi and Scott post poetry show
their menagerie of well-meaning degenerates
all shouting song lyrics at each other,
over Ray Liota's cocaine.
Everyone else is either at Oasis
or lost to the Los Angeles night,
but I am welcomed in to a rotating-door world,
something I hadn't seen since sober dreams.
I could not wait for summer,
and now that it is gone into September,
I am still getting my post big C sea legs back under me,
but so long to the show, and chemo,
especially when I find myself in a living room
on the other side of the country,
the other side of cancer.
If I didn't have anything to tether me,
I would stay out here forever,
fall in love and figure it out,
forget it all.