City of Angels Hanging

The parrots brought here as pets’

descendants fly free

but forget without the rainforest

how to sing

not unlike the war-phanned infants

wealthy but barren nations

keep adopting.

It’s sunrise in LA,

can you hear over the radio ads

all the transplants’

cacophonous squawking?

There are brown mountains beyond

all the accident lawyers’ billboards

and firefighter for higher

getting paid when they’re torched.

And drowned cultures behind

every strip mall restaurant’s laminated menu

with metal bars on the windows

that block the nightwalkers’ hands

but not the demolition’s noise.

Our minds are route maps

thoughts traverse by habit

like sex-trafficked rivers.

There’s only one way to reach out

in this city of angels hanging

in rosaries off rearview mirrors

casting shadows on stonefaced drivers

where there would have been tears.

The signs specify miles per hour

but not lives per highway exit.

Add up the trees and their ghosts

or all the animals

not cute enough to get stuffed

or fierce enough to be sports mascots

for the stadiums whose teams

wanted and believed in more

than their first homes could give them too.