smoking in her parents’ car,
in view of a shapely gray monument
‘is this a church or a strip club motif?’
the police roll by, i slide down my seat
to touch my screen, it’s nice to quit
thinking, i close my eyes
‘it was a Chinese restaurant’

in a navy blue hoodie
i disapeare and worship the city

wooing the sidestreets,
while reciting to they
in the language of
a legal proposition
or an advertisement.
the city is appealing
to my senses
in the grammar of 
multifamily
working class homes,
freeway pigments,
brutal signage,
and broken glass
vernacular.

‘how did you know that?’
i open my eyes, memories
of monuments haven’t budged
i know myself in no other city,
for now