ANGELINOS

Adentro del Sugar salon, a cover band:
flogged dogs double-timing it on drums.
Sangwichitos and cans of painful, iced beer.
Eybody in skinny yeens, atrocious haircuts--
los hongos de Audrey Hepburn's toes.
Vietcong, choloplatoons, hog-posses
tucked away in a restaurant like Los Globitos!
Places where mariachis dress in blacklight,
belt songs about posers pissed on Patron didn't
make it over the ten or the pac coast railing.
So sandlots blueprint an animus of poking
through their Wilshire swine and rancid savages.
Pussy pants so tight they fight the dongrake
in Versailles, the garlic portal chicken and maduros
in the aorta of Venice, but not the one on La Cienaga.
The Yoruba wench in headwrap paper: when was there
relax enough to get her daughter-in-law a snowdrift?
The mocca baby, the cavalier uncles in fashion kits.
The Mexican waiters running Cuban restaurant in L.A.?
The lifeguards assigned to photographers in the employ
of the supernatural versus something like searot.
A black cat is a firecrack, like upholstery from Tee-Jay.
Perfectly acceptable to the answer is the question of Weekends.