In his mid-sixties,

Sometimes Art-Dealer,

Sometimes Importer,

World-weary eyes hovered 

Over a three-day 

Graying growth beard.

He glided up the path 

Around the ruins

Of Erol Flynn’s old tennis court,

With Pritzi, his ever-vigilant 

German Shepherd 

By his side.

Sitting on a bench 

In Runyon Canyon,

Overlooking a hazy 

Blue-violet marine layer

Gently covering 

West Hollywood,

Sitting on the bench 

In the lotus position,

Floating above the city,

Looking at Pritzi,

“Friends are like characters in the novel of your life.  

Some are there for only a chapter or two, others are there until the end.”

Leaning back on the bench, sighing, 

“Hollywood can play the part

Of the abusive boyfriend, 

Beating you to a bloody pulp, then

Charming its way back into your heart because 

You love the idea of it.”

Los Angeles spread out before them

Like a stretched canvas,

“Everyone in this town 

Has been doing the same thing for over a hundred years.

Everyone is trying to find one well, just one well to come in,

That will turn their desert dreams into an oasis.”

Vlad got up with Pritzi

And the two of them walked

Up around a little-known trail,

As they came upon a series of rusted steel structures,

The back supports of the old Hollywoodland sign,

Covered in hill growth.

Both of them stared 

At the steel structures,

“There is something sacred about ruins,

There is something significant about failure, 

About decay and death, in the same way

Getting old is significant; getting old is sacred.

We do not honor ruins in this town.

We cover them up, 

We shun them, we shun them 

And shunning them

We shun the deepest 

Part of ourselves.”

They walked back down to their bench

As Vlad looked at Pritzi,

“Anyone not trying to make Art is

Making a commodity.

And there’s nothing wrong with commodities,

It’s just you cannot be a whole human being without Art.

The question is,

Is anyone still interested in making Art 

Rather than making commodities?

The question is,

Is anyone still interested in being 

A whole human being?”

The sun was getting hot.

Vlad stood up, holding Pritzi’s leash,

Looking far off to West LA and the beach,

“The blessedness and the curse of this town is that there is no time.

Blessed because without time, we live in eternity.

Cursed because without time, we have no idea who we are.”