top of page

Gary Duehr

Welcome to LA

Here's some on-street casting.

Three tough guys, huddled by the curb, like a lasting

Vision from some film clip:

A kid in shades, Marlboro at his lip,

Who's taking it all in.

The older dudes in Polo shirts, deep in conversation,

Intense as any Method actor.

From birth to death they'll stay in character,

In case a call to "Action!"

Booms out through the air—to catch one

Fraction of their life in celluloid

And so sidestep the void.

It's Miami or LA, somewhere too sunny.

The light is thin and bright, as crisp as money.

And the Oscar goes to... Best '80s Costume?

Best Weathered Face? Best Cigarette? To whom

Does this scenario belong?

Someone who's out of sight, beyond the throng

That's streaming down the street?

Anything could happen next. "A bite to eat?"

One of the Polo dudes could say. Or: "You're dead."

Maybe both at once: first lunch, and then a bullet to the head.

Brett Stout Broken_Hands_Converge_A_Brea
bottom of page