I’m L.A. Woman

But I am not your woman

I am not a blonde

I am not your re-invention

I am not a size zero

I am not your lesson or false shaman’s shuffle

I don’t do coke with pancakes and butter

I don’t sleep or hang from your tree to feast your famine

I don’t surf

Or take up war with your instant death

I don’t dance beneath your blood moon

I don’t eat tofu

I don’t revel in death or your nightmare

I don’t giggle and fast and forget every night

I don’t want to die of gangrene on gangily toes

I don’t want a reality TV show

But Hollywood

I push off the covers with no doubt

The stage is mine caramel, curved, at the corner of PCH