Savvy

pretty flowers

who array themselves in summer

who among the people 'round town

fling around

who around the pretty lasses, whistle,

who surround the fields in reds, yellows

fire-wounded pinks and blues

who, in their youth, discovered rainbows

multiple in number from all directions

meet the golden pot of Lucky Charm,

who at his heels, a strong-shine on those boots

blinds the mind

who stirs in the wind with little angels

in the heart

who beats for you, the California cow,

who craves the wheat among those fields

who yields that brilliant golden corn

of Aztecan born soldiers,

who built an ancient city

with all colors of the sky,

who rises the eyes to the clouds

who provide rain for a healthy harvest on that earth

who spins and sooths the land in winter

who Christmas-men gather the snow-ball fights for

in the young streets of Los Angeles,

who never douses dreams of wild

and pretty teens

who love their text machines

who communicate with all in fake little papers

who go from one to all

and rediscover truths

who are happy and

wrong.