LA Plastic

“There is nothing higher than reason”

philosophy professor’s fish tank 

eyes scrolling between students

flight-attendant delivery

of “the most important skill you’ll ever learn”

stale-cake ceiling flake falls

this building is crumbling

hip-hop dancers

scuffed black Vans stuttering 

on concrete, human 

undertone to 808 drum beats, high-hats, 

and a forgettable triplet flow

people walk too slow and talk too loud

a five-stranger barricade forces 

a molasses march, 

plastic-gloss leaf glints

white woman with

mini-poodle in slippers 

and baby on a leash

groceries and alcohol at Ralph’s

wrinkled oranges with skin like grandpa’s kneecaps

before grabbing Jägermeister, SVEDKA, and Asahi 

gushing from my penis

off the rooftop of Kelton 515, 3 am 

LA skyline a swarm of spinning fireflies 

TV bounces between Akira, Dave Chappelle, and Tetris 

6 bodies, one dank white couch

straight to Sunday service

where Korean preacher

spews too much for his breath, slowing 

only for hissing s’s and throaty h’s 

to proclaim “God’sss hhholy redemptive power”

milling corporate smiles 

shake my hand after service 

welcome to my “new spiritual home”