The Space Age saucer at LAX,
you know the one,
hovers overhead,
a retro-futuristic Jetsons-like totem,
a shimmering stucco vision of a far-off future
in which an overbearing security state
shuts down a well-regarded restaurant with a view
that landed smack dab in a well-trafficked area.

LAX, and LA generally,
reminds one of how much time
amounts to a buzzsaw shredding everything
into a mist of fine but coarse-grained sawdust.