"curled under blankets ratty with age. I lean against the hollywood hills. perched like a gargoyle at its edge, I'm not making the climb yet but also not at the base.
it's a kind of limbo between the hills & the world below--not completely in either, not separate either.
do I feel a sense of belonging? have my skin & bones taken root here in the sand?
it clings to my ankles. exfoliates. I shed my skin around los angeles like a snake."