HOLLYWOOD ELEGIES

                                     1

Under the long green hair of pepper trees, The writers and composers work the street. Bach’s new score is crumpled in his pocket, Dante sways his ass-cheeks to the beat.

                                     2

The city is named for the angels, And its angels are easy to find. They give off a lubricant odor, Their eyes are mascara-lined; At night you can see them inserting Gold-plated diaphragms; For breakfast they gather at poolside Where screenwriters feed and swim.

                                     3 Every day, I go to earn my bread In the exchange where lies are marketed, Hoping my own lies will attract a bid. 4

It’s Hell, it’s Heaven: the amount you earn Determines if you play the harp or burn.

                                     5

Gold in their mountains, Oil on their coast; Dreaming in celluloid Profits them most.