Dirty Brea, filthy Brea
Your streets are paved with Robert Smith
Your trees are trimmed with amethyst
Stumps forgotten, leaves gone rotten
I love you Brea, I hate you too
There is no order but there's always you
Dirty Brea, filthy Brea
Lambert is lined with broken tiles
Shattered tables for a quarter-mile
I swore I'd never go back but
Poolside, we drank the sweetened iced tea
And the carport holds the deepest memory
Dirty Brea, filthy Brea
Your mall is built on wishful thinking
Your canyon's dry for teenage drinking
Date Street swoons behind Imperial
And dead ends at that little house
The purple house, the perfect house
March 20, 2007
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wait they make mango mush outta me
2 comments:
brea needs more homages such as this
Loving such a poem...Ali..your eyes are wide open...and I yearn for more days with you.
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