The World's Greatest Wax Museum 

All the way up Highland isn’t Burbank, it’s heaven!/You can see the cross on the hill and everything/Candy Land Los Angeles/Put your windows down, stick your noggin out/Taste God/Stick it in, Church of Scientology /On a high perch/Queen of everything/On some cloud above the 405/Mermaid fingers/Eventually ascending Truman show steps/I slide, I slip/Hello Marilyn/Monroe/Face of the town/Some other time I’m confrontational/For now: a holy woman

a familiar kind of sour

I hear Ella Fitzgerald and notice my jaw is clenched 
there’s a few drops of rain on the windshield
I long to leave a place I’ve never known
my nose 
a few drips onto my sweater

there’s something so sad about Neil Young’s voice

when I was gone the jacarandas bloomed

on an airplane or in a closet

Hello to the woman age 68 
sitting next to me 
playing a game 
on her iPad 
with a lady case on it 
which means nice flowers
My blister bled 
through my white sock
The man in front of me 
is watching a YouTube informational video
about repairing Mercedes Benz cars
He looks horrible in his v-neck t-shirt
These aren’t things I want to see
Candy Crush looking games
or the YouTube application
or Mercedes Benz cars 
not even the Santa Monica mountains
Reach my hands all the way to Albion
Wrap them around all the lettered roads
Twirl my limbs
Dance them around the Orchard Cabin
I remember orange 
as we fly into Los Angeles 
The entire marine layer 
sprawled out 
snow angel
The canyons
Orange like Dawn’s marigolds
Orange like sun
Orange like wax
Purple like wings
There’s the moon
What if once you heard me with your eyes
That’s also called seeing
I was chopped open with an ax
And all the light came in
Purple listens to me