Give me attitude.
Show me sophistication.
Take a short stroll through downtown.
When it's dark and there's a soft nip in the air.
And all the tall buildings are pock-marked with little light cubes.
And nobody's out so it sounds dead and quiet,
Even with all the cars rushing north on Figueroa
And all the exhausts humming on the 110
It turns into rustling leaves through the trees and the ferns
And the metal-rail vines of this metropolis jungle.
The Great Los Angeles.
The city's center of corporate towers and closed Starbucks.
The sidewalks are clean smooth stone
And a single girl's laugh echoes down the street for a block or so.
I just barely hear it.
A single girl's laugh, but she's not alone.
She can't be, not here.
And besides.
Who laughs to themselves downtown?
Aside from the bums.
This laugh is too fair anyways.
Not a crazy one.
It's comfortable.
In response to some dry wit perhaps,
But the wit is not my own.
And a little child runs through the dark empty plaza.
