THE WAITING NETS OF DREAM CATCHERS

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The Setting:

Hollywood
Sunset Blvd
Starbucks
Early morning squint light
The kind
That inspirits
Ray Bans and
causes
Muzzy rock musicians
To bang into walls

The cast:

Two girls
Tanked on corporate ecstasy 
Working their team caps
And verdant aprons
While flashing signals
And knowing glances
In the secret 
Language
Of the multi-tasking barista.

Hollywood people.

Float in and out
Like they’ve just made touchdown
on the waning part of the moon.
Everyone got the memo
Apparently
To wear slouchy knit hats 
Implanted earbuds 
And bring phones
To slump over
Like Muslims showing
Their devotion at Ramadan.

Tables 
are islands of castaways

The street-sullied homeless guy
with his bashed in skateboard
And life-drained Gatorade bottle
Stares into space
As if he’s trying to see
The future
In the crystal ball
That has always let him down.

Spindly pale bespectacled 
Black tee shirt guy
With an arm tattoo
That looks like
A four year old’s
Idea of the helix
Flails 
And gestures
Talking
On his earbuds
As if he’s 
Alone in his
office
Barking out -
Orders 
Punctuating the air
With power points
But mostly looks like 
A lunatic.

Bony
High-booted
Girls
In drain pipe jeans
Tush wiggle to 
The counter
As do
the occasional dogs
Of delight
Who arrive
Drunk on the promise
Of pastry
And a session of 
heavy petting.


Mornings
Here
In the 
shadows
of the ancient ruins of
Guitar 
Emporiums
Where the spirits of
Licks and
Rock Gods 
roam
Bumper to bumper
On Sunset
Are just the first track of the album
Whose concept will be revealed
Track by track
Long after the actual sunset
Has melted
Like ruby red wax lips
Into the Pacific
When we’ll lie
Mummy wrapped
in our
night tombs
Where we tend to do our 
Very best mystery solving
By deciphering
The hieroglyphics 
Of lyrics 
and
Converting
melodies
Into descending 
notes that 
fall
Like 
stars
Into 
the 
waiting
Nets of 
Dream 
Catchers.

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