Travelling by air, you see very little; there are clouds, of course, but their attraction wanes after a while. Down below, the earth is too distant to reveal much, although the Himalayas or the Rockies may engage our attention. A journey by road, however, is a different matter, and even in a uniform landscape there are always signs to be noticed. While travelling between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara some years ago, I saw a road sign that immediately sent me to my notebook and to the writing of this poem in the car. (I was not driving).

college of hypnotherapy, next right

(a sign on the highway, in Los Angeles, near Hollywood)

This winter sunshine

Attenuated but still warm

Is the democratic air through

Which the gliding limos

And the working trucks

Move equally; bare hills

Describe the outer limits

To this Los Angeles landscape,

Indicate the boundaries

Of the possible in a place

Where anything can be done;

For this is where illusion

Has its kingdom; where things

Can mean what you

Want them to mean, and more;

Where the paying customer

Is only too ready and willing

To think that being fooled

Is satisfactory entertainment.

The autumnal fall of leaves

Is not an issue here;

Along the banks of this

Interminable highway

Are eucalypts, Tipu trees,

Riots of bougainvillea,

All asserting that perpetual

Summer pertains in this south;

Even, one suspects, the lotus itself

Blooms here, tended

For personal use, of course.

Somewhere, under the glitter

Of distant gleaming towers,

Somewhere under the acres

Of quite undifferentiated roofs,

There is an old history here,

Of conquest, dispossession,

Of forgotten missions,

Of old and modern empires

Locked in a tawdry struggle

For the right to name;

And now Mexico seems

Ever closer than it was,

Spanish seeps into the interstices

Of a protestant life

That’s never been all that happy

In the sun; kisses and softens

Anglo-Saxon place names

That need only a vowel

To make the transition

To sympathy and the guitar.

The signs flash past:

City of a Thousand Oaks:

First exit ahead;

I count only six, planted

Along an unexceptional

Concrete mall; nine hundred

And more must be elsewhere,

As many promises are

In a place that assures you

Your future is attainable.

And then a sign that warns

College of Hypnotherapy,

Next Right. This says so much:

You will leave the road,

Close your eyes and let

Your mind drift as it will;

Replace thought with no thought,

Listen to my voice, this

Is the College of Hypnotherapy

Speaking to you; next right;

Now, don’t put change off;

Keep driving, do not flinch,

You can be better, you can stop

The things you want to stop;

Believe in me, and in this sign:

College of Hypnotherapy, Next Right.