In the sketchy heart of Hollywood,
in a goth building your beloved
Ghostbusters might be called to,
you nested fast in a 2nd floor walk-up,
all pristine paint and put-together furniture
that won’t break the bank. The vibe
is right, brick walls, oak floors,
and conversation-starter nooks and crannies
for who knows what early 20th century stuff.
We bring basil in a pot, tomatoes, garlic,
a baguette, champagne,
lavender salts for your virgin bath,
and congratulations. You’re on
your path. We head back and hit the 101,
about young love.
Poem #11 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month April 2016