L.A. Drive

There’s a saffron glare 

on the side of the road–

for a moment, 

I think it’s the sun but 

it’s a water bottle filled 

with piss. A mountain lion 

follows the ridge

and looks down at 

the lapping waves–

it’s the same 

rhythm when it kneads.

The scruff in the middle 

by the divider is not 

a carpet. I tell you 

to look away because 

the sky is looking 

smog and we need 

to wring the blue 

in your eyes so 

we can dye the sky.