Blood in the Water

The Golden West sorts thru dreams
like sand pebbles at the foot of the
Hollywood sign sinking beneath the weight
of pale pink angels who
talk out the side of their mouths
& carry guitars zipped up in a body bags

You can always trade those thick tears
for a bucket of flashlights
gun the engine & chase down the
starlet who wears crooked shoes

I’ve got a pipe bomb in the tank
& she’s got black silk eyes