A bag lady leans against a palm tree
At the corner of Sunset and Gower,
Smashing cans with a broken chunk of concrete.
Her face has aged twenty years past the dreams
That brought her here. At the heart of rush hour,
A bag lady leans against a palm tree.
At Van Ness sits a double amputee
In his chair by the KTLA tower,
Smashing cans with a broken chunk of concrete.
An impeccably dressed studio flunky
Looks in a rush but pauses to glower.
A bag lady leans against a palm tree,
Singing, strumming, and stinking of Chablis.
Dream big but don’t wind up on a corner
Smashing cans with a broken chunk of concrete.
It’s a short walk from the Grove to gritty
And they keep the doors locked at Sunset Gower.
A bag lady leans against a palm tree
Smashing cans with a broken chunk of concrete.
Contributor's Note: After fifteen years of sporadic study at four community colleges, I accidentally earned an A.A. in Social Sciences from Cerro Coso and now I occasionally take a class for fun. I'm a city girl living in a small town, a beach bum marooned in the desert, a pacifist working on a Navy base.
1 comment:
Wow. This poem was perfect. Sometimes poems don't go the way you want them to... one has to struggle to slow down and read. This one was perfect, Ms. Wilson. Especially the part about the Chablis, and also the part about... and... I live in a nice part of LA just about a ten minute run from the KTLA tower. I started community college in 1991 and just became an RN a few days ago. Considering a move to the desert so I was poking around (on the internet!) looking to see what school was like out there... you know, to take a class for fun... I LOVED your poem. I love your poem. Made my day. Thank you. Sincerely, James
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