The ad reads "Filmworks, Reel Jobs for L.A."
Below it, in MovieLand's doorway, two young men sleep,
Their coats wrapped like cocoons about them.
They've yet to be touched by Tinker Bell's wand.
The Magic Kingdom has become a Never Land
For these chrysalises of cheap labor.
They're an unsightly blight in this land of flowers,
Film, fantasy and perpetual summer
Where palm trees reach up as if stretching
Their fronds with a yawn to greet the morning sun.
In this land of youth and self-indulgence
It's hell to grow old. Beauty's a precious asset,
Perhaps the key that can open a Tomorrowland
Of fame, fortune and a pampered life of ease,
A life laden with herbal foot treatments,
Cranberry pomegranate sugar scrubs,
Chocolate Truffle body wraps, waxed eyebrows,
Coffee scrubs, enzyme peels, outdoor cafes,
Ten dollar slices of creme brule cheesecake,
Pricey Italian footwear and fruit and cream baths.
Liz Taylor died today. From her early teens
Looks defined her fame. Her eyes were deep pools
Of desire. How sad that a woman so beautiful
Couldn't find a lasting love. Eight marriages,
But no relationship secure enough to cling to,
To allow herself to age gracefully,
Secure that she'd be loved for her person rather
Than for beauty that will always fade with time.
The legends such as Harlow and Monroe died young.
They didn't have to make that difficult transition.
The beauty of Butterfield Eight, Raintree County,
Suddenly Last Summer and of Egypt's Queen
Too soon degenerated into a bejeweled
Boozy, pain-killer addicted frump, more believable
As "Martha" in Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff,
Cruelly parodied by a young John Belushi
Dressed in drag, choking on a chicken bone.
Toward the end befriending Michael Jackson,
Whose obsession with youth and looks turned him
Into a freak. Perhaps you understand him, Liz.
As I watch a white Hummer hop the curb
Before settling back onto the street to park,
I reflect upon this land of excess,
This realm of make-believe, where to excel
At entertainment as a gaudy human parrot
Mouthing words and mimicing scripted characters
Is the goal of so many. What of those who come
Here though who aren't beautiful or lucky enough
To earn an opportunity to open an account
In the Universal Studios Credit Union?
To fail to attain a dream can lead to despair.
I've learned this too well, yet I still dare to dream,
As hopefully do the two young men who sleep
Fitfully in the doorway of MovieLand.
Perhaps an even crueller fate is to find
That after you've caught hold of your dream
That it's got its hold on you, that it defines you,
And that the conditions that are imposed upon you
To sustain it, such as eternal youth and beauty,
Are chains that finally become too heavy to bear.
