By Joshua Arnold

Mailbox tree six boxes and the sound of leaves
next to a mortuary

self-conscious dogs
scent of rotted flesh
l  i  n  g  e  r  i  n  g  with formaldehyde
A pizza joint far below
touches the grid

three   seven   zero     Nine       City Terrace

Dogs sound like parakeets beside rusted slats Superior Super Warehouse and a rambling air conditioner

Bath water startled by a schnauzer at three-seventeen A.M.
the smell of motor oil in this sweet charcoal drawing of a cow

Carnicería at night with a lump in the sidewalk
            covered in rags and asleep

three seven zero nine                         point five
I expect my phone to ring
                        after school in my black trench t-shirt and white socks
            I’m somewhat less than myself
            If he asks for money
            I’m soft, silky and wearing vanilla cologne
                and so it goes by    and so it goes by

Such a sweet scent the bakers rumble fresh tortas and muffins
            lump slides from the   sidewalk
            not opening but baking
Play it normal gas station traffic grows   “What’s up fool”
sound carries  very well  down a concrete tunnel with paint

Beneath the Virgin Guadalupe r-i-n-g I smell death spiderwebs r-i-n-g in my face across my nose I wait self-conscious but don’t answer   screaming woman thrill on a motorcycle r-i-n-g City Terrace Los Angeles blue Victorian r-i-n-g Georgian torta in a garage   and these things never stay.

Mailbox tree six boxes and a rooster
sticky tomatoes with seeds splashed                     e  v  e  r  y  w  h  e  r  e

and three flour tortillas    eggs    the smell of microwaved yeast and thick butter lingering “hello”  the smell of death sweat                charcoal sex bathwater    sewage

next to a         mortuary
prefaced by vanilla cologne and         “Do Not Enter”