Hour 11: Hollywood

Hey Hollywood, way out west
golden highway, you hot mess
have I missed your glam, your impersonators?
glitter like a tranny golden apple?

I want to know your drag, your yellow bricks
I want to know your bowl, your bright sequins
tassels and tiny light bulbs
cowboy hats and dirty diners
I want to sit in your greasy spoon.

Have I missed the neon letters stacked
the search lights holding up the sky?
The river of street light on the wet boulevard
Cinerama and celluloid?
Is there an old movie for us to hide in all afternoon?

Tell me, Hollywood, is it too late, baby?

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