10-E Looking Left at LA

[billy]

i like the POV you present in the poem,, the smog the self indulgent  who are to in love with themselves to notice others.
as someone who hasn't been there i get an image of what it's like, whether or not it's the correct image i have no idea but i do get a defined image.

Los Angeles hides
 
            its children
in an ash specked blanket,
 
clammy tadpoles
                        float along
                                    edgeless would you see the tadpoles [unless it was a traffic jam]
in indifferent
 
cobalt –
 
a local’s soul
is made of nickel
and pleather, not herad this word before but it sounds like plastic leather. [faux leather]
 
Venice Blvd is
clogged with tumors;
 
desperate is a city
frowning in a mirror,
 
four
            million and
                                    alone.