The Los Angeles River
The Los Angeles River
Douglas S. Brown
19 May 2015
She drove the 5 North everyday-
Five-thirty, five forty.
She got to take fifty minutes off
Until her second job when
She walked along the Los Angeles River.
No one was nice at either job.
She did things even the men wouldn’t do,
Cleaning grease from the overhead filters,
Cutting out fish guts with a curved knife.
They tried to touch her
But she held out the guts
Like it was her own.
She told her Tito and Emeralda
The wonderful praises she got for her work.
She thought she could leave them
With the ten-thousand dollar insurance policy
She bought from the man at her door.
It even pays in case of suicide!
He had said cheerfully,
Dabbing his sweaty cheeks.
So she paid the fifteen dollars
When he came by each month.
She made her pink-haired neighbor the beneficiary
And gave her subtle hints-
You never know when you will become
a parent!
She made sure to spell the name right
And put the right address.
Carlye Dombrynski.
She did not want her children
To see her disintegrate
In shame.
She decided to end it
In Egret Park under the 5.
She bought the pills at La Pharmacia
And the man crossed himself.
My last day on this Earth.
I hope I am accepted in the trading of my life
To help them.
She drove over the overpass and looked
Down at the Home Depot and the train yard.
And then she saw a green-yellow parrot flying under the 5.
She could feel the color
Move under her, unperturbed
And beautiful and still,
A perfect vibration of balance and passion
Like the few times she had really made love
To their father,
Before he had left them.
She thought it must be
A sign from an ancient people
Who lived here before
And struggled like she did.
The day she had visited the Park
A pasajero had told her-
The ancients lived here,
Fished and hunted right here!
They made their life.
Women cleaned, cooked, men caught fish and game,
They made love right over there-
He pointed and her eyes followed:
That is where I will die then.
The dirty wise man must have been an oraculo,
Or a professor,
To see the past like a dream.
But he did not recognize her.
I am like all the women before.
A flash of beauty on a river,
Worn out hands from pounding and cleaning,
Barely able to touch a man with smoothness,
To live and then disappear and live again.
She drove on to Los Feliz Boulevard and got off
And walked along the River
Throwing the pills down the bank.
Excuse me for living!
She said to the people
Who break hearts
And breaking my commitment
To you.
But I am here,
I am still here.
Living and continuing
Free, like the ever-walking
Spirits from the river’s bend.
And the green parrot
Who also escaped its cage.
I think I know this.
I know this!
She ran back
And got in the bath with her kids
Rubbing them with the special soap from home until they squealed.
You are not working today, mother?
No, I am with you today.
I am with you.
.
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