For Sergei
Sergei sat poised always in the sable, sultry Los Angeles evening Whose benevolent stars sewn from ivory tulle were the only elements Which did not threaten to devour him His silhouette traced in grey nicotine residue His black denim clad aristocratic limbs Into the sweltering Southern Californian climate Into the soot colored composition of the night. Spliced with a silk georgette skirt, Swaying, rustling in the inconstant morning breeze A five year old frame sashayed toward a building, Where they taught me only to forget...