Category: Poems

Oh hazy city!
Land of riches, choked up roads and open dreams.
You are a magnet for directors, actors, rock stars and waiters
waiting to be seen.

Shaking earth and dry dirt hills
fecund in hopes never birthed
Your sun is setting

Don’t engage in naughty things,
your parents wouldn’t like it.
For every single phone that rings
I can’t rhyme that one, either.

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This poem originally was written for the Lake Catholic literary publication in 1983 or 1984. It is sad that I actually remember it.