You think I’d spend the night at
the L.A. Mission if I’d known
guys are locked in one dorm,
girls in another.
Dinner: Greasy beans, macaroni,
stale bread, water.
Showers: Line up. Sign out towels.
Strip down. It’s delousing night.
We’re supposed to experience the many
sides of suffering. Dad keeps asking,
“What’re you doing to relieve the pain?”
After stale doughnuts and watery coffee
we walk to Skid Row, twenty square blocks
of garbage, vomit, piss, and shit.
Dad takes Mom’s hand, side-stepping
bums on the sidewalk. She teaches him
the words to “Gate of Sweet Nectar.”
I duck into a diner for a burger, fries,
and chocolate shake. No way it should be
this hard to get laid.