I can’t stand it– in LA one year
Alex King and I were invited to

an Oscars party but in the midst
of another sad singing act we left

for tacos but still stood around on
the green and red tiles watching

a muted tv anyway I think Billy
Crystal was the host that year

the gleam in his eyes dead I
walked Sunset and Vine seeing

unsharpened pencil eyes all
these wannabes myself included

I peeked in one mirror to comb
hair and breathe into glass then

outlined my name inside a star
to leave a filthy myth somewhere

(originally published in Whistling Shade, 2021)