Los Angeles in September
By Ivor Griffiths

looking for a cab in the Beverly Hills Hilton
clipping across marble chess board floors
to play backgammon in ivory, could not remember that last day
mum dressed me. Lobbys dry air
is chilled, smelling of almonds and eucalyptus, beads of sticky outside air
still cling to skin. Lost the game caught a cab, Century Plaza,
liquor and luck.
Sirens and air conditioning for four days straight,
Spent the time in bed, fucking and drunk.

,br>Ivor Griffiths 2006
Poetics Home
Short Stories
Blog of the Poet
Contact Me
Login Form


Remember me
Password Reminder
No account yet? Create one