while overhead, pilots cast cloud nets into the sky,
harvesting freeways and office buildings and tree-lined streets
with swimming pools that are nailed like turquoise studs into the ground.
In the supermarket terminals old women
on their journey to home towns that wait for their return,
sit in hard rows and reflect on the children’s children
they have mid-wifed into life.
A crone gives into her desire to tell about the golden man
who stood at the end of the bed and made the cancer disappear
while she walked through the valley in the shadow of death
and prayed not to want but she did.
And now she says to do it all in 96-year old vibrations
that were forged when women wore high breasts and long skirts
and played croquet on lawns on a Sunday afternoon.
“because you never know when the day will come,” she says,“ so do it all.”
The lady with the walker, one step at a time,
makes her way to the ticket counter
and passes the young woman from Reno
who sits beside the man from LA
who sells gum by the truckload
when he isn’t making time with a small town girl
who has been made too friendly
by the blue skies that dome her days.
She tells about her mother who rides a Harley
and is looking for a man who will run her up mountains
as she circles his tattoos with silver ringed fingers
for the duration of the ride.
Laying on her side on the floor,
a blond girl waits for her ship to come in
while the white haired lady with a cane
discusses the politics of wealth with the Italian-loafered gentleman.
Eating chocolate yogurt the gypsy with the briefcase
scans the board for the New York bound
and the man in the Panama hat sits quietly
and reads the life and death of Hemmingway.
Students cluster on the floor
and proclaim in heroic tones
how they will change the world
when it is their turn to be in charge.
The fat woman with the horizontal stripes
lumbers through the crowd looking for a seat.
A terminal exhibition, travelers all,
waiting impatiently for their number to be called.
While overhead strangers eat small bags of honey roasted nuts
as they compare sales territories and organizational charts
then look out of oval windows
as runways reach up and grab the wheels.
At touch down passengers pull heavy suitcases
filled with karma from overhead bins,
stand crouched over cell phones
and wait for their turn to file slowly
down the aisle past flight attendants
who smile with sweet insincerity
and welcome you to Los Angeles.
This place, this city where deals go down on street corners.