Someone Calling
There's a permanent gloss
On the Hollywood Blvd
I cross in my mind.
From the cylindrical spin
of the Capital Records Building
through neon nights
bathed by shaded hues
of congregating queens
who strut and preen
under artificial light between
the darkness and
next shock of bright.
Never anywhere to stop,
to rest,
only move
between splashes of flashing bling
and someone calling.