Posted by Rob Neighbors on February 28, 2012 - 10:27pm
I exit the café and step onto the cracked sidewalk
A bag lady sleeps on a bench – her ankles are sunburned
Traffic rolls by in a steady stream on PCH
Redondo Beach Police cruise by in slo-mo
I keep walking
A few blocks away in King Harbor sea lions bark
And a fat drunken fool loads his shotgun aboard his boat
The sun hits Naja’s as ACDC plays to an empty house
The harbor stinks of death from the red tide
Some Mexicans swim in the dirty surf with their shirts on
Graffiti on the jetty says, “Locals Only”
Gangs of roving surf punks patrol the side streets
Piss runs in the gutter making its way to the sea
A bloated bar marm smokes in the doorway of Pats II
I keep walking, watching my back
On the mean streets of Redondo Beach
Copyright 2012, Rob Neighbors
A bag lady sleeps on a bench – her ankles are sunburned
Traffic rolls by in a steady stream on PCH
Redondo Beach Police cruise by in slo-mo
I keep walking
A few blocks away in King Harbor sea lions bark
And a fat drunken fool loads his shotgun aboard his boat
The sun hits Naja’s as ACDC plays to an empty house
The harbor stinks of death from the red tide
Some Mexicans swim in the dirty surf with their shirts on
Graffiti on the jetty says, “Locals Only”
Gangs of roving surf punks patrol the side streets
Piss runs in the gutter making its way to the sea
A bloated bar marm smokes in the doorway of Pats II
I keep walking, watching my back
On the mean streets of Redondo Beach
Copyright 2012, Rob Neighbors
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