poetry standing still

Hat, hair,  pink up to there, 

cuffs, boots, damp chill in the air,

Abbot Kinney*, i don't care,

in uptown, i found this pair.

Are you put off by poetry that doesn't rhyme?  I am.  But then, I'm put off by pork jowls, capri pants, Master's degrees and recent graduates. Somewhere in there is an apology for the shit above.

* This is a reference to fin de 19th siecle developer Abbot Kinney who had the foresight to know that artists and celebs who lived in his Venice in Venice impractical thus very high demand SoCal neighborhood would need a street full of coffee shops, ratty looking but expensive boutiques selling droopy Comme des Garcons t-shirts and a town hall in the form of a Tom's shoe shop and tax service to sustain all their free time and rehab programs their creative juices.