Cars, guns, and houses cosseted in an amusement park on the outskirts of town.
Tall buildings & parks packed like puzzles.
Transit invisible and ubiquitous;
You're anywhere in 20 minutes.
Walking is an endless sensory bomb;
the natural and the artificial,
the mercenary and the sublime.
Everyone's dressed up, but dressed up differently, each a part of that bomb.
It's a dream; the commonwealth.
Angelenos are transported by this dream in a few international cities. And return, despondent, to the rigor mortis that is their own.