Poem 266 ± February 25, 2016

Francesca Lia Block
poet l.a.ureate

my lover is los angeles
like this city i haven’t even begun to know all of him
he’s as far away as inglewood from the san fernando
valley where i grew up
burning my skin in the smogged sun
enticing as that fallen star skyline as glamorous untouchable
and yet i’m touching him
curled up naked against the cellphone in his back pocket
“calm down” he tells me “breathe”
cradling my neck in his hand holding me so i can see us
he’s the dodgers he’s a palm tree
he’s the mountains surrounding me
that brutal sun
and a large dark sea waiting at the horizon to engulf
and cool
i get lost on his freeways
his lights blind me doubling my vision
red green and yellow blurred by cataracts in my eyes

i see a rainbow on the 405
a house with room for everyone
there are little children dancing all around us
trees are inexplicably purple
sky defiantly pink
music in the hillsides
and wild animals roaming the periphery
a drunken girl wandering the underworld looking for her orpheus
she’ll find him if it kills her
all she has to guide her
are her words

FRANCESCA LIA BLOCK 2013 HEADSHOT L.A. SHIRTFrancesca Lia Block is the Margaret A. Edwards Lifetime Achievement Award winning author of more than twenty-five books of fiction, non-fiction, short stories and poetry, including Dangerous Angels: The Weetzie Bat Books and her most recent novels, The Elementals and the psychological thriller Beyond the Pale Motel. Francesca has published stories, poems, essays and interviews in The Los Angeles Times, The L.A. Review of Books, Spin, Nylon, Black Clock, Bullett and Rattle among others. She teaches fiction workshops at UCLA Extension, Antioch University and privately in Los Angeles. Learn more at www.francescaliablock.com.

This poem appeared on Love in the Time of Global Warming.