Breeze filled spaces
fever, filled face
oven baked heat
dried upon ghostly
whispers from
Universal Studios
dried up as dust
trash, puke, dreams
of Echo Park, Sunset Boulevard
Oh to sit in this haven
Burbank shelter
sweltering sun
seeming animate
impossibly departed all in one
In the stillness of this reclusive respite
Tomorrow's my flight
via Bob Hope Way
Oven valley sun purifies boorishness
A hotel pool cools exhaustion
A City of Angels purveyed.
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