They say
this was where Ray-
mundo Chandler drunk
and wrote and thunk
he oughta write some more.
What for?
Come on
Lay on the floor,
the hardwood floor.
See
out that window there,
LA unfolds in the sun,
a golden poppy that one
could pick and it would wilt
like the wine I so spilt
on my shirt.
Come on,
Flirt
here on the floor.
The nuns across the street
are long gone.
There are movie stars there now
in limousines and
silk suits and great legs.
Tonight we’ll hide in the hedge
and throw eggs.
But now
From this old wood floor–
see the ceiling above?
Love.
That’s what the day is for.

(1990’s)