The Consistency of Nostalgia 3

The rainbows terrorized the bread crumb
city, reminding it of the serpentine flood laying
it its hole. And so it invented decay to ward
off the heft of its sky. A taunted god is a mean
drunk and calls throughout the night.

Things separate in order to appear, the city
had to leave to let the cranes and scaffolding
rise in layer cake and steam-blowing stacks
of muffin hovels. It tries to fulfill a shape but can’t
stop the mold from spreading out as Angelenos,

then waits for the day when all its homelessness
sings Motown choruses of opulent circles
and gets beautiful tips under heavy twilight
civility, instant unearned nostalgia, and
the charm of implied stilt-walking loss.

-C.S. Henderson