Seven Sketches of Santa Monica
1. The Selling Point
“gentle waves brush the surf
coaxing a smooth sea breeze
through rows of palm trees
as the music of children’s laughter
plays from the pier above.”
Don’t believe the postcard.
That ocean is toxic
Those palm trees are offsetting the ecosystem
And I think my coworker’s cousin
Stabbed a guy behind the ferris wheel.
There’s a Hooter’s right next to Vidal Sassoon.
You can watch the game
Ogle some titties
Drink some Budweiser
Walk twelve feet and gay bash.
3rd St. Promenade:
where frat boys go for convenience.
A crusty punk came into my work with a nasty possum bite.
She asked for Neosporin and some gauze.
I lied and told her that we’d just run out of Neosporin
And that we’d never had gauze.
She taped some paper towels to her wound
And wrote DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH
With a black Sharpie.
If the rabies don’t kill her first
The moxie just might.
On Election Eve, Barney’s Beanery had this promotion:
Order Budweiser if you favored Bush
And Pabst Blue Ribbon if you favored Kerry.
They’d tally up all the beervotes at the end of the night
To see who was president of Barney’s.
I ordered a Red Stripe
In a to-go cup.
The Marines have landed
And they’re buying stuff.
And the new Lil’ Jon CD is selling really well.
It’s good to know that the U.S.M.C.
Is keeping the apocalypse crunk.
The pigeons eat meat here.
Little specks of onion.
Anything that can be scraped from a junk food wrapper
Or a warm pile of puke.
Dirty flying rat scavengers:
You were proud once
Delivering wartime mail
Until the government gave your job to a machine.
At least when I got laid off
I qualified for unemployment.
7. The Pyramid
High property tax=
Bad customer service=
No spare change and no extra cigarettes=
Picturesque sunset = public defecation.
Where’s a Farmer’s Market manslaughter when you really need one?