He came from Oregon way back
before he knew curiosity
Lightly he traced tools in the sandlots,
wiped broad sweat openly.
But then it changed.
He saw sweetwater at night
and sang lullabies to blackbirds, and
started speaking languages not yet heard.
These times had been long passed in the waning.
Yet ever so slightly, he turned,
looked over his shoulder,
seeing not the brassy billboards glowing,
the yawning entrance to the freeway.
Waltzing toward it,
Aug 22, 09:11 PMPurchase or Subscribe to Slake: Los Angeles
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