L.A.
By Bert Meyers
The world’s largest ashtray,
the latest in concrete,
capital of the absurd;
one huge studio
where people drive
from set to set and everyone’s
from a different planet.
For miles, the palm trees,
exotic janitors,
sweep out the sky at dusk.
The gray air molds.
Geraniums heat the alleys.
Jasmine and gasoline
undress the night.
This is the desert
that lost its mind,
the place that boredom built.
Freeways, condominiums, malls,
where cartons of trash and diamonds
and ideologies
are opened, used, dumped near the sea.
Notes:
“L.A.” was originally published in Sunlight on the Wall (Book People of Berkeley, 1976) and is reprinted with permission of Daniel Meyers. For more information about Bert Meyers, please visit bertmeyers.com
This poem is part of the portfolio “Bert Meyers: A Gardener in Paradise.” Read the rest of the portfolio in the January 2023 issue of Poetry.
Source:
Poetry
(January 2023)
