The Roosevelt
Hotel
The haunting
red of the Roosevelt Hotel
palm trees silhouetted in old-fashioned shadows
Crescent moons
pulsate beneath the water
reaffirming foolish childhood dreams
Such as a good
book begins in morning
I turn the page
and night has crept in again
The famous girl
sits and drinks her scotch
smokes a long ciggie as I stand and watch
Hoping to catch her eyes
just for a fleeting moment
of innocuous glee
The drunken
man mumbles
as the girl stumbles
between what she was and what she is now
and words that mean nothing
fly into the sky like birthday balloons
In that pallid
moon
amongst the false glamour of Los Angeles
with empty pockets full of dreams
watching those living parts of life they thought they had missed
only to find they forgot what it is to exist
I raised my glass one last time
cheers to the
ghosts of the Roosevelt
the ghosts of L.A.
those who never found their way
and those so unfortunate whom chose to stay
goodnight haunting
hills
and the living dead
goodnight Roosevelt
and the ambiguous life you have led
