I wanted to write
about how it felt
to watch the hills
by my house
on fire
how there was awe
and fear, but mostly
stupidity.
Five minutes earlier
I’d texted the chat:
“Only panic if the hills above us
catch fire.”
neighbors spilled down
the steps of my building
like liquid nitrogen.
I stood waiting for Uber,
acquaintances texting to come
to the valley
As if
I’m putting on French lace
while the neighborhood burns.
The hushed luxury of Beverly Hills
a cheeseburger waiting under a silver dome
a powerful man looking at me
like I’m magic, the respectful
restrain of desire;
these are potent silver linings.
I couldn’t
stop staring at the Watch
Duty App
until I went to San Francisco
and another
Angeleno in my bed felt like
meeting in a lifeboat.
Even the stink of the wharf was
thrilling, the wind, the weird AI billboards
I returned to LA
like a beat poet
fine, actually
totally jazzed.