I fell asleep at dawn, 7 a.m. pure sunshine
when I lived alone this wouldn’t be a problem.
I work at night
yelled at by rich, loco, coked out managers
paid under the table, can’t report them or
get a credit card,
making tips only when I don’t look tired,
when I’m able to hide the pissed-off vibe
from my I-hate-your-bullshit eyes,
wiping the tourists’
tables and telling them, when they ask,
that they can find weed (whispered elegantly over the cash register)
from just about any homeless person in Venice Beach,
saccharine sweet summer fun California vacation.
and suddenly I’m a mother again,
being woken up at 11:30 a.m. (which is daytime folk’s 3 a.m.)
to ask if I have change for the bus,
or if I could spare my laptop for a few minutes.
I don’t have change,
and my laptop is dead,
and you are 3 years older than me,
yet I am more self-sufficient than you,
and you cannot wake me up just to ask me things like this,
I am not your mother
but while we’re at it,
would you please move your piles of clothes
from the middle of our floor to the closet?
and wash your dishes, and pay the rent,
so they stop bugging me to make you pay
just because I’m your friend.
you’re not in Vermont anymore,
nor are you in the Hollywood Dream you thought
life without a plan would become here in LA.