I said bookends
but I meant a certain street:
the market at one end,
the post office at the other.
*
The smell of rain
above a dusty track
where ponies and the pony
boys wait for tourists.
*
Have you ever been
a passenger on a bus,
one side completely open?
The road, bent around a cliff.
*
The goats eat,
sure-footed, among
the rocky outcrop.
No one charters them.
*
Behind glass, mouths
open to sing a chorus
in their empty orchestra.
Trays of beer and hot peanuts.
*
MacArthur Park is always
melting in the dark.
From the promontory, the sea
is visible on clear days.
*
The last time I was there,
I lifted the latch
off the gate. I said
I’m going instead of goodbye.
*