a spoonful

everyday in los angeles is a good day for a daydream. whether i'm walking by the mexican ghetto or over- populated hubbubs, i'm actually headed toward the butterfly reserve. whatever i can see, my eyeballs can fly at. i tell them to fetch me a cup of tea and they tell me to wait for my water boiler at home. my teeth are yellow and pealing like the keys of a piano that hasn't been played for two decades.