Thursday, June 30, 2011
Los Angeles is a soft-core porn cliché,
all silicon enhanced titillation and come-
fuck-me pumps with no money shot.
Glamour seems so much crueler when
it’s look but don’t touch and no amount
of sunshine can warm an empty bed.
Satisfaction it seems is only for subscribers
and most of this city is access denied.
We’re all on the outside, faces pressed
against the mirrored windows, afraid
that our fifteen have mistakenly been
lost in the mail or given to someone else.