Sunset Blvd.

On the bumpy, littered pavement of a forgotten street,
Lives swirl in a tornado of missed opportunities and foregone conclusions.
Sketched from a river gone dry of blood and bones
Its edges are narrow-minded, its bends predictable.
On this street, named after a city that swallowed its sun,
You breathe in exhaustion, eat grief, fondle defeat.
Listen carefully for yet another breaking of a promise
Another smashed vase on a wooden wall, scattering remnants of love,
Condemning an affair of the flesh, an attempt to con the con artist.
At night, they close the windows as they would eyes,
A last attempt at an honest life, a desperate prayer for absolution,
Deaf to cries for help, fearful of a good deed gone unpunished.
I recite the names that left this street, never freely,
Who ripped the wallpapers off the scorched walls,
Yielding habit to a burning in the soul, a knowledge of transition.
There is freedom here too, in the spaces between parked cars,
In the holes left by uprooted trees, down the creaking fire escape ladders,
Beaten and scraped, scrawny and shaking, it's still breathing, still mad.
Raging with unfulfilled desires, smiling a cherubic smile, I stomp,
Searching, escaping, exploring, hiding on a sidewalk of a street,
Named after a city that scarred the sky with absence.