Hollywood Milk Crate Goddess
Eyes meet the way southwestern rain collides with dust.Standing there painted white like a goddess on a milk crateAt the corner of Hollywood and Vine,You remind me of Cabo in 2010With sand in the sheets, in the showera TV program I never cared forAnd the smell of him still clinging to my jacket.Passerby is shouting, “Get a job!”But you see meElevate me in that fixed gazeStreet traffic and the stars disappear.
