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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.

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