Ode to Burbank

O glittering Burbank!
City of almost angels
How sweet a sight your dull metal sheen
That shimmers in the warm November sun.
Slate gray and gunmetal cry out to me —
O how I long to come down to thee from the heavens
To run and jump and hop and skip
Through grids of industrial complexes
Each more deliciously dismal than the last,
Each more salaciously soulless than the first.
How I long to caress your varicose vein freeways,
Your crow’s feet cul-de-sacs,
Your warehouse wrinkles that smother the sunlight
And cast oblong shadows on your cheekbone streets
How I long to be alone with thee, Burbank
At night, when the glister disappears
And the sound of cold winds echo loudly on your pavement
Your asphalt and tar, your concrete and macadam
O glittering Burbank!
City of desolate Hope.