Resting here at the corner of past and f

 

Turn Left at the Past

 

I used to think I knew

what nightmares were.

However.

There are magical people

in Los Angeles

they do magical things

but you must seek them out

know where they are

find them where they live

on dead ends

and magical places

atop mount lee

but always moving

shadows move past

busy elbows with grave concerns

blur in strontium light

holding a Valerie clutch

ask all the right questions

open your mind

spend nights of search

in the forgotten back alleys

and streets of swine

they hover in spirit

they hunker in enclaves

they will disappear and

then entice with a finger curl

when they reappear

while they put a spell on you

 

    no candles

    no incantations

    not what I am talking about

 

                  but

 

time stops for such moments

look around

this is your life

this is it

this is priceless

I have lived this apocryphal story

and come out the other side

because I have been paying attention, Mack

addictions to powders

and adjectives

as

a child in these hills  

   

    “Are you (really) ever who

     you think you are?” 

 

    "A dream is not reality,

     but who's to say which is which?"

 

    “Have you guessed the riddle yet?”  

 

hobnobbing with the hobnobbers

a stiletto future of

potions

and

notions;

promises: they got 'em

blinding strobe lights

mad scenes

nightmares in

knee high tule fog

at midnight on this mainline drag.

All the lights turn red in unison

all the way down to Doheny

but you move on anyway

down that empty-hearted road,

advancing in

a smokescreen trance

for

once you have been there

you will never be the same

a shiver up my spine

is a frequent reminder

for this

johnny walk-the-line