Day N Night

Block houses and dry heat

My mouth tastes of garlic

And my feet are swollen

Slipping into flats

My mind flashes to water

And my body aches for Santa Monica Boulevard

I would run through Beverly Hills

Barefoot, even,

If I had the chance

Cabin Fever

Is a bitch of a muse

She sits on my winged shoulders

And wheedles her way into the back of my mind

I am too impatient for the pen

Too bloated to run

So sensitive to changes in the weather

I loathe the stair

And relish the concrete

Preferring flat planes

To escalators that lead to nowhere

Twirling on my tight-skinned toes

I am finding that

I am incapable of moving

Beyond the reaches of this box

Or traversing these walls

Wishing I would end up in West Los Angeles

Sickened air and all

But clean-

er somehow.