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POSSIBLY THIS IS AN ANCIENT WOUND

When I run I have wonderful ideas for instance

When I see the sociopathic pregnant lady, to exclaim, “how responsible!”

LA is such a funny candy city & where is everyone going anyhow

five violet skyscrapers peek tentative between dark hills, unconvincingly

Crushed velvet strapless sky dress, arrogant skyline neckline like daddy’s oscR baby

Shaky palm fingers, a curtain fringe wind

 

White on one side red on the other of this freeway bridge, no one is charged here,
freebasers in the cars just there, unclaimed land and wild cats and walking up stairways
which lead to nothing, but walking faster than the other girls and with more of a loose
hip wiggle. & what if you jumped, what then, 28 year old woman leapt to her death off
the 110 bridge, because the sound of revving motorcycles beneath was too much. That’s
how I feel now, afraid and delighted at the steam release of every hearse below, you can’t
even count them there are so many, and every last one looks so much longer from above,
definite death boxes. It’s cold here at night so there are no mosquitos. It’s lonely here at
night so there are no mistakes.

 
Poem by Lauren Matthews

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