Random Chaos on L.A. Streets

The cappuccino with oat milk, sugar dreams, and cacophony in ceramic beats nears the yellow lead of existence. Fire-flied blue denim keeps my eyes out of the captain lock. Had a dream last rear of Dean Martin filled with Good and Plenty’s. Kokopelli’s, and rustic one-eyed jacks. Dean gets the dip. Good P.R. on his martian. Brown Ford pickups pick locks on toy dogs that choke on leashes of pure disgust. Undo my Bert. Be red. Hurt my thumb. Milk the cow. Spray the tabby. Hell and shoot fire. King Lear obsesses over salty pretzels. Wherefor art thou, Tommy Burger. Chili double cheese drips onto Scientology sidewalks.

“Kick the can” I say. Fire rises over the salt shakers. Bitter teeth gnaws my silver bracelet. I bought her once. She gave it to Horatio the rabbit. Horton hears a Horton. Carbon dots hit the side of the brown Ford pickup. Uncle Bert throws hay. Welds cow tails thick with dingleberries onto the sawhorse. So much for sirloin beef and soda crackers.

Tommy burger. Tommy burger. My kingdom for a Tommy burger. The concerned face of Olivia Coleman shames with her relentless eyes. Always toot for a bootstrap. She doesn’t comedy store. Shake your ass, baby doll. I’m tired of you sonorous British angst over seeing the Sunset Strip. Winds can blow your skirt to your breasts. Show us pussy and ass rather than the trials of speakeasies and ennui. Diffident bastards run the show. Om shanti, James Dean. Foolish twits and nightmares. Bushes cluck, you revery neck. Chuck Taylor’s are rad. I see Hebrew’s in red pumps.

Kiss the chili beans, Padre. Lust is only for the liquid.

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Comprehensivist, Writer, and Systems Thinker/Healer. My experience is my sutra and my body is my prayer.

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Maurice Kaehler

Maurice Kaehler

Comprehensivist, Writer, and Systems Thinker/Healer. My experience is my sutra and my body is my prayer.

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