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Three Line Lunch: Bleak LA #1
a yearlong diary in three-line poems by Jeff Rogers, day 25
Bleak LA #1
Walking down 7th to Langer’s, looking down at iPhone, I see a butt crack.
Woman squats on sidewalk, a hiss, and urine hits concrete, trails toward gutter.
I pass as she stands and yanks up ratty black underpants with a defiant shrug.
Nice!
Nice!
Do you get to eat at Langer's often? Just visiting? What a neighborhood! Classless reality of sidewalks, some spirit of anarchy in the air… smells like piss. We should all visit on foot… In my car I just use Alvarado as a short cut to Echo Park. Too bad for McArthur Park melting into drugs and murder. CNP
Do you get to eat at Langer's often? Just visiting? What a neighborhood! Classless reality of sidewalks, some spirit of anarchy in the air… smells like piss. We should all visit on foot… In my car I just use Alvarado as a short cut to Echo Park. Too bad for McArthur Park melting into drugs and murder. CNP
Thanks for your poetry in response to mine.
I get to Langer's once every couple months, I'd say. Park in their lot a block down, thus the walk.
Thanks for your poetry in response to mine.
I get to Langer's once every couple months, I'd say. Park in their lot a block down, thus the walk.