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62 Entries: L.A. Log 1 The stars shine all day through my scalp five foot three inches into space called atmosphere or one of the ways to understand a novel. 2 At this address a bougainvillea lifts her curls and kisses a Santa Ana with her mouth open right on its blueblue skies. 3 I like to ride the fast lane, es muy caliente and under me a red chile siren pepper peppers Alvarado with cop sauce as I cross. 4 I know I know I’m dying a little faster of Los Angeles but I suck in a piece of it anyway, sing it out in little puffs LA LA LA LA about twenty times altogether like a bunch of cheerleaders yelling down the freeway in a bus. 63 5 Coiling out to Malibu on a copper strand, my sunglasses shine like two westbound storefronts open to the scenery business. 6 I never owned a map to the stars’ homes but I sent to JPL for 8 x 10 glossies of Mars to stick up around my mirror. 7 I note the traffic patterns of two Western Gulls flying the Santa Monica Freeway, sooty boomerangs arching across their backs as they exit up. ...

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