Walking In Search of Shape

When I ask Ravi how long it takes to get to the centre
On the Metro, he says: Wait a minute. When you say ‘centre’,
What, exactly, do you mean?

Wandering around West Hollywood – 3rd Avenue, La Brea –
Suburbia’s at work. Detached houses with Lynchian lawns at
The heart of the heartless city.

I think of Chandler’s Marlowe staking out a bungalow.
The drama’s kitchen sink, behind closed doors. In every home,
Intrigue awaits discovery.

Wealth usually likes to flaunt itself. The rich sit on stage, stroll the
Piazzas, head for church. Here the rich slide by, groomed in groomed cars,
On their way to hilltop eyries.

The mansions in the hills cast a cold eye on Mexican fruit-sellers
Adorning manicured lawns. LA is a systematic labyrinth.
You cannot get lost; but can you be found?