How good it feels.
To get hit with a dream that just won’t leave you alone.
A script. A part. A chord. An art.
A vision written in stone.
Whether your name on a sidewalk.
Or just a wave like the long right hand point in Malibu.
How good it feels to get LA-ed.
From here? You stay.
From elsewhere? You pack. Light.
Camera. Action.
The dream begins.
The belief of a future that is bright.
For you and for the city, you fight.
And even when… Cut!
Wake up! Don’t trip, they say.
Kicks in the mentality of the mamba.
It’s not a wrap, cut the drama.
You cannot LA and give up.
You cannot LA just with your eyes.
You cannot watch this sunset and not rise.
In defense of the people, the dreams, the ocean, the views.
The smell of the taco stand on Wilshere at 3am.
It’s your city. Your home.
Picking you up.
Loving you.
On one knee, asking: will you LA me back?