the last time anyone saw her
she was smoking Pall Malls
in the back of a town car
and ashing into a green glass brick.
now, rising from the surf like a giant,
taller than Capitol Records,
wearing the broken Hollywood
o like a halo,
she is barefoot and
crushing all the studios.
she is picking up executives and
hurling them into the Pacific Ocean.
later, their bloated bodies return with the tide,
bobbing like pin-striped manatees,
later pushed back out to sea
by a great gray whale who doesn't give a shit about
movies.
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