HE WAS THE LAST AMERICAN.
HE SAT ON THE PORCH AND LOOKED UP TO THE
ELECTRIC WIRES AND THE TELEPHONE POLES.
HE COULD NOT READ THE NOTES BUT THE MUSIC
WAS ALRIGHT.
THE EMPTY LOT ACROSS THE STREET LOOKED
EMPTIER THAN IT EVER DID.
THE NEIGHBOR WHO OWNED IT HAD DIED FROM
A TERRIBLE DISEASE AND HIS BUG HAD BEEN
SOLD, OR MAYBE WAS BURIED WITH HIM .
HE THOUGHT HE HATED NAZI VOLKSWAGENS
BUT THIS ONE HAD WON HIS HEART BY HOSTING
LITTERS OF FERAL CATS WITH NO SHELTER.
ONE DAY A BLACK KITTEN HAD CROSSED OVER
TO HIS SIDE AND HE NOW LIVED WITH A WOMAN
AND 3 BLACK FELINES.
SICKNESS WAS EVERYWHERE . HE’D BEEN
SURVIVING ON FRITOS AND MODELOS FROM THE
LIQUOR STORE DOWN THE ROAD, THE LAST
BUSINESS TO MAINTAIN A FACADE OF
NORMALCY- IF YOU WORE A HAZMAT SUIT.
THE OCEAN WAS TOXIC, SO HE COULD NOT SWIM
NOR ENJOY THE BLESSING OF A DOLPHIN
PARADE IN THE MORNING.
A BLACK MAN HAD BEEN MURDERED , AND FOR
SOME , IT SEEMED TO BE A VICTORY .
ALL THE BORDERS WERE CLOSED. HE HAD
ENTERED THE COUNTRY FROM THE EAST WITH
WHAT WAS NOW CALLED “THE LAST WAVE”.
HE THOUGHT OF MILES DAVIS , WHO SAID HE
DIDN’T BELIEVE IN GOING BACK , HE COULD
ALMOST HEAR THE MUTED TRUMPET. THERE
WAS A HUMMING BIRD GOING SOUTH , TOWARDS
THE JACARANDAS AND THE EVERGREEN.
HE CLOSED HIS EYES TO LANA DEL REY IN A
YELLOW ONE PIECE. HE WAS THE LAST
AMERICAN.
