You are going to Reseda
To make love to a model from Ohio
Whose real name you don’t know

The dentist is in Reseda, and every time I go there, I die a little more.

It is 5am and you are listening to Los Angeles.

The local anesthetic wears off completely in the wee hours, giving me pain instead of numbness. I didn’t bite the inside of my cheek this time. I made sure not to bite the inside of my cheek.

And the radioman says
It’s a beautiful night out there in Los Angeles!

I hear the distant hum of cars on the freeway, crickets and nocturnal birds that all sound like doves or owls. I listen to this song like I always do when it’s 5 am in Los Angeles and I’m awake.

I don’t turn on the radio.

We are all in some way or another
going to Reseda someday
To die

Male didn’t die in Reseda. He died several thousand miles and one time zone away. He would have smiled at the notion of dying in Reseda. This was one of his favorite songs about his city. I should spread some of his ashes in Reseda at 5 am.

Los Angeles beckons the teenagers
To come to her on buses
Los Angeles loves… love

It was 5 am when I first drove into Los Angeles, when my belly went flip-flop at the enormity of it. I passed Reseda, but I didn’t stop there.

I am going to Los Angeles
To build a screenplay about lovers who
Murder each other

Los Angeles loves love… and murder.

I am going to Los Angeles
To see my own name on a screen
five feet long and luminous

Everyone who says they don’t want that, wants that. Even me.

It is 5 am and the sun has charred
The other side of the world
And come back to us

The sun isn’t up yet. It’s still so dark.

And painted the smoke over our heads
An imperial violet

There is no violet; only a smoggy orange.

It is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles.

Random thoughts brought to you by Soul Coughing and Los Angeles and 5 am.

You are listening.