My Kinda Man

I travel down your 10 freeway
rolling the window down,
tracing the telephone wires.
Coasting along your deserted streets
your air spills through my hair
and your fingers spread across my back like wings.

My fingers carress your battle scars,
riot remnants.
You've seen the worst in people,
yet your starlit scars continue
stretching your arms as far as you can.

Your poker face won't work with me,
seeing the beauty of you.
Your landscapes is glowing
under a California sun.
Cruising along your arteries
I wish to hear your heart beat, my L.A.

...March 2003