One Day I Woke Up in Los Angeles
Lost apartment outside of Seattle. Packed bags, boxes too, up the stairs of mother's old growth
creek townhouse. It all happened sometime after the divorce... or was it separation? Gets blurry -
from London lodger to ex-council coupled flat to not quite viscious Vilnius post Soviet one bedroom
iron door. Then back to Belltown cold, clocks, and being dragged on the floor. Fled all that. Who
wouldn't, make him... but not before bruising
Pile everything into never-wanted car. At 2 PM, buy a poncho. Drive to $30 truck stop that looks
haunted at night. Near morning, Happy Gilmore on T.V., in Oregon, Crater Lake. Each
room has a pointed roof like a teepee.
Drive down the 5. Cross over to 1 coastal route, trees red over ocean, and elks in cabins. Stop
in a slum of Salinas. Don't sleep. Listen to what may be a prostitute beeping Johns, outside. Next
day, slimy shower.
Friends of friends of friends are too busy. One hostel and then another. Hurricane Katrina on T.V.
In Arlington Heights, a sort of boarding with angle statues and ghosts who leave the water
on at 3 AM. Turn off into into Hollywood, West. Same sort of Seattle type job. No benefits. Cute kids
though. Not enough enough pay. Culver City Palms.
Some bits left out, like the part after, during, before, now, more of the same, not counting the
Live on the outskirts of nothing.