Was today Saturday?
I asked someone at the end of the day
He didn’t know either
These things don’t matter so much
in LA
where one day
runs into the next
and time is as hard to divide
as air

Never fear
my dear
Saturday will come
when it’s good and ready
Like your freeway exit

Until then
This is a night
When a refracted moon hangs
in a jelly sky
A paper lantern to go by
Perched not too far
above the palms trees
and fireplaces
that form storybook silhouettes
on top of the firefly hillsides
of Echo Park

A police helicopter circles
a big house on the hill
A two-story, glass-and-cement modern
that has taken the place
of something more modest
from not too long ago

The preposterous machine
shines its giant flashlight
through the tall windows
of the house on the hill
and circles with confidence and precision
owning its space
like a shark owns the water

A voice booms from the copter
telling the house on the hill
that the party is over
It’s time to go home
A fine use of the taxpayer’s dollar

And then off it glides
into the dark-blue LA night
while a lone coyote shuffles
down the middle of Main Street
and a raccoon sits it out in a tree
and the folks at tables outside the café
smoke cigarettes and drink cabernet
with the paper-lantern moon
hanging over their shoulders
lighting the caverns
illuminating the way
for all the brave denizens
who smile and swim
deeper into the night