Q: Getty view

A tourist grins, digital camera in hand

We photograph smog:
A remainder of busy living
Over LA, like a new celestial being
I am in its layer now, it seems
Heavy down
Hanging, cordless from real white fluff.

Green cacti flourish on cream stone
The Getty Center 30-inch squares.
A view, obscured by pollution

But the tourist doesn't notice
He is busy taking zooming snapshots
Of someone else's life
There is art behind him
In a dim interior, fuzzy, out of focus after bright sun outside.

I want to get rid of the smog,
It covers the mountains:
My looming dread-umbrella.

I write on squared paper
Below my feet, suspended two floors up.

My sister takes my arm, nestles my
White striped shoulder.
I compose California with my breath
As we wait for the rolling cloud-shadows
To swallow us into the end.