The Golden State

Is it possible I fell into a wormhole and I got a glimpse of myself living in a parallel universe? Let's just say in this other world, I used to own a Surf shop in Laguna, I now lay low in the shadow of Santa Anita, living at the Azuza Motorcourt, I cook my meals on a hot plate, I still eat TV dinners, I watch reruns of Dobie Gillis, and Dick Van Dyke, I hang out at Shady Brady's, I own a vintage Chevy low-rider, my car stereo blasts Cream's "Wheels on Fire," and Hendrix's "Electric Lady Land," and Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde," I live off my hard-fought winnings at the track, (the first-time lasix rule still holds, and nobody else notices!), I regularly venture over to the ocean, take out my trusty old surf board, (oh if only it could talk!), and try to catch a wave that will get the heart pumping in double-time. I hang out with burnt-out rock stars with names like "Lefty," and "Jo-Jo," and ex-Playboy Bunnies named "Darlene." I live a life on the margins, I embrace alienation, my life is full and every night I watch the sunset in the West and I think, "ain't it great to be an American?" I aspire to be the "coolest cat," on my block...I am, but no one else knows it.