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...has gone to shit. Literally. Crap everywhere.
Dog; Cat; Bird; and yes, even Homo Sapiens
Oh, and don't forget the dopers.
Please dear Jesus, do not forget to mention the dopers;
And ceritfied Felons;
Hot damn those Felons got swagger.
Kiddie-rapers too;
Attempted murderers;
we shunt forget the ubiquitous neighborhood drunk;
two tanked lovers;
and a partridge and a pear tree...
-- All residing on my block.
-- All stutter-stepping, drunk as skunks, emboldened.
And illiterate kids, smoking weed in the canyons, setting refuse ablaze behind my house.
It's as if the lone neighbor and I are besieged by a crumbling society on the edge of martial law.
The vampires creeping in, waiting for eternal dark.
A local tweaker parked his jalopy in the driveway today -- blocked the neighbor in.
So I went down, confrontation in my sights. 'Twas near midnight, but no avail.
Nobody answered.
Nobody gave a good goddamn.
Figure he and the tribe were in the nod, enjoying Big H.
Anyways, there's trouble brewing.
I can smell it.
Feel it.
Rumblings of Nasiriyah -- just before we rolled in, the sky gray and quiet.
Wet.
Men, Women, Children, peeking from windows -- confused, scared, just wanting it to go away.
"Go away...go away...go away" (sotto voce).
Folks who wax poetically about good ole' Pedro, might want to visit good ole' Pedro once in a while.
Just on a random day.
Alone.
Alone on the many streets below Western Ave, where the peasants and prisoners spread out like water on litmus paper -- metastasizing rapidly, leaving broken windows, abandoned cars, semen-filled magnums ripped off with wanton abandon -- pooches nearly noshing the aforementioned 'nad nectar.
it's an eerie sight, dear readers.
as if the men, women, children are peeking, lurking behind computers screens, hoping to dear God,
the Outside doesn't come Inside
@ least not now.
@ least not yet.
I know there's better...
people;
places;
faces;
and pooches (the San Pedro pit bulls -- chained and frothing against chain-linked fences. Blue-eyed beasts with vacant eyes -- a bizarre mirror -- sociopathic owners bestowing prison pathos to their beloved curs and kids).
But I know...I have visited. There's still good country out there.
America.
long unbroken vistas -- a house there, horse corral here, shooting range snugged up against a granite mountain.
-- smiling and humble.
But not here -- no, no, no, not California.
Give it to Calderon, I say.
We're just visiting Sir, like most Angelinos.
Waiting, saving, and hoping for the best.
Nevertheless, I'll state it now -- get it documented and such.
one of us will be hurt.
December 31, 2011
0121.
Not sure who, but one of us.
me, her, the pooches.
LAPD Harbor Division knows about the stolen USMC flag.
the petty crime and disjointed derelicts.
tettering on the edge, waiting for opportunity.
"Such a shame," the Police Officer said. "People will steal anything nowadays."
"Yes," I said. "They will."
There was a slight pause, an exhale.
And I hung up.
