gabriella 2




I’m on the midnight bus

To Los Angeles,


I wrote a bad check

For my ticket, but what the heck?


Could a fellow tell you more?


I’ll be there soon,

Riding near a full moon,

Knowing that I can’t stay,

Seeing you just one whole day.



I could land in jail!

A bandit needs the anonymity

Of living in the city.


The sky is clay, the street is grey

Outside the bus station at the start of day.

Watching all the selves unfold,

Hearing the woman, who spat,

“Fuck you.  I speak Spanish.

Watch your language!”, and like that.


To the astonished couple in blue

Who hold between themselves a suitcase or two.

She’s crazy say their eyes,

Rising above their dirty shirts

And the young man kneeling with his guitar

And the Navy nurses running for the buses

And the streets a taxi couldn’t find.


Welcome to this world of mine.

For a dollar you can park.



You arrive like a smile into my face,

And we breakfast on the swaying pier.

We eat for $1.33 here.

Then two beers and some pool.

The surf is fair, but you’re a fool

To go out with so many surfers there.



Both of us could just grin-and-bear

Surrounded by all these banks

While the bankers jog

And the fog is still in the air

And in my head.


133 Long Beach Boulevard,

Do you think that things are getting hard

Or hardly getting on at all?


Not even you, my friend,

Will tell me in the end.

No matter how I spend my daily life away.


So I leave you by the moon’s eclipse.

And at 3 AM, when Orion arises, back home

The wind is warmer than your lips’ consent.


Things that never happened make me sigh.


Now is the hot morning of my discontent

And not a friend has stopped-by.


I cry.




One thought on “GABRIELLA

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