Great Coleslaw and the Christmas Tree

Downtown LA, December 23 1989.
They film a lot of scenes here.

I hear a police siren from the back seat.

What is fact and what is fiction?
I cannot tell.

We have something to eat at the LA Pantry.
Great coleslaw, vile lamb chops.

No women work here.
'That's been he rule for forty years mister.'

There is a man sweeping the polished floor.
I swear he is the reincarnation of Humphrey Bogart.
He does not smile,
Or raise his head.
He just sweeps.
I feel that more ghosts are going to show up.
Clark Gable and Errol Flynn,
Playing cards and swigging gin.

Afterwards on the pavement I am accosted.
A young Mexican wants to sell me a Christmas Tree.
He pursues me down the street,
insistent that I buy the shabby foliage.

'This is the best tree in LA man'

He has a beautiful smile.

I give him three dollars and wish him a Merry Christmas.
I decline the tree.

We drive around the city for a while.
This is hell incubating.
The riots have not ended here,
Just taking double Espressos.

We pass the Mexican again.
Treeless.

Big deals.
Small change.
In this city of angels.