Stripped of all your traffic, and wrapped up in the slender calm and silence of the night, your true colors reveal you to be the same old patch of pueblos like the dry lands that used to be frequented only by the humble pobladores all those years ago.
In moments like these, it’s clear that despite every effort to get lofty, you’re still not so different from the myriad of country-towns all across the nation, surrounded by an emptiness so vast it’s captured only by the distance between arid earth and sky.
Even so, tomorrow when you’re a bright, fancy metropolis again, which has little to no time for the pobladores —or any ole roots for that matter– I’ll still see you.
Together we’ll make two transient beings strutting through the corridors of a time and space we like to think we can bend if we use enough of our imagination.
The people will rise to meet us with another smile under the sunshine then, and of course we’ll return the gleam right back. We’ll be back to business as usual, and will be oh so good at business as usual again.
Everyone will buy it all, or buy enough of it anyway, and it’ll be another laid back day in the city of L.A.,
But when the sun sets on the boulevard, and when all of the smiles of the people dim back into the inevitable stillness of their faces,
When the people retreat back into their shells, to trudge back into their innards,
That’s when all that will be left is the void between us again.
I don’t know exactly how it’ll be, but I do know it’ll probably show us
Once again, how
Even after all we might know about each other,
We’ve still got so much more to get to know about each other.
I will see you then, old friend,
And will greet you, as always,
With flailing, helpless arms