NaPoWriMo #19

Thursday, April 19, 2018

I Can’t Go to California

I can’t go to California because I’m afraid of the Manson family.  

I can’t give a reading in LA because poets in LA have to be prepared to be photographed at any time. 

If I woke up in southern California, I’d see those impossibly tall, spindly palm trees, put on sunglasses, and turn into Joan Didion.  I’d have a Coke for breakfast and go interview a five-year-old who was allowed to ingest LSD by her wayward parents.  I’d turn my cold, sociological eye upon the whole affair. 

In LA, the introvert poets and the performance poets meet outside the planetarium to have a rumble at midnight.  The performance poets start performing for each other, while the introverts drift inside to watch the stars move across the ceiling with that narration that both soothes and terrifies.  In this way, the introverts win the fight.  


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