Page 21 - Contrast1991Fall
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L.A. IN CONCRETE
Freeways in mazes and one-way traps.
l' Can't find a place Without specialized maps.
f)J Smog in the eyes.smog in the nose
In gardens I smell a petroleum rose.
Can't see in the distance; hills fade into brown
WhUedriving in day-murk through neon-lit town.
Continuous drone of multi-wheeled beast
With odorous pricklings like fermented yeast.
Rain brings the mud slides, heat brings the fires;
Valley are crisscrossed With multi-strand wires.
Oh, Where is the land where sight works so far
Where the air smells of pine and not of road tar;
Where a song blrd's voice can be heard for a mile
Instead of supressed by a peopled-up pile?
There's a quiet green place somewhere, that I know;
My thirty-inch Sony has shown me so.
Why people stay there I can't understand.
Why they want concrete instead of the land.
-Don Ehrhardt
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