The Queen of Venice Beach
Some late blooming occurred in the seventies
when 'Hey Jude' and the sunshine in her head
went public.
She settled into a craft shop, gently molested
by Applejack and Californian Skunk
until a self-image exploded.
An aftershock of rainbows continued.
Ruckle lips roam a now manic makeup.
Gainsborough hats trump frizzy kablooey.
On the boardwalk, she stands palimpsest,
a fragmented journalism of more colorful times.
She turns to her subjects, smiles, not for the camera,
but at the one thing that detonated her
back when she was just a girl
with looking-glass eyes.
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