In the City of Angels are places I have never been
Open secrets that only I do not know about.
Monastery of sequestered nuns
That bake a cake for you and I.
Runyon Canyon in the middle of Hollywood
Where the young and the old congregate
The avant garde, yuppy and bum walk side by side
Hike the the stony stairs till you reach the stars.
In the City of Angels, where the real and the posers you have to discern
Where deals are made in the open or in the casting couch.
Ah, the City of Angels is where I live
Maybe it is time for me to get real and smell the Starbucks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem