I Get Lost in L.A.

I get lost in L.A,
its big, sprawling
iconic images,
contagious, infectious,
acceptance speeches at Grauman’s,
its movers and shakers,
deals made at Spago,
and the fashionistas 
who parade along the Groves,
who whisper with a salty tongue,
take naked snapshots
on the red carpet, 
posing with an Oscar vogue,
blinded by her billboards, 
sports cars of desire,
the myths and legends
of Melrose and the freaks
on Sunset Boulevard

I get lost in her wild bikini,
up the winding roads
of Beverly Hills,
and pass her on a tour bus, 
a spoiled running back
from Westwood,
a Disnoid with mouse ears,
and a mistress of a sugar daddy 
who drinks too much champagne, 
while Batman woos Wonder Woman 
along the walk of fame,
Jim Morrison
unzips his leather pants
at the Whiskey a Go Go
and the rich and famous 
dine outdoors on Picasso
and yellowfin tuna
under a smoggy moon. ❏

Mark Tulin is a writer and humorist from Ventura, California. He has authored Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, and Junkyard Souls. 

Photo by Cameron Venti

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