Page 78
By Jack Joseph Smith
He passed a small park where he thought he saw
a face-show recognition. The maze of men were
busy; with their work at play. Not Rome; the mov-
ies. Not to far in the distance was the Old Avion
Ball Room; to become the Cheetah with purple eyes,
and finally a sabotaged fire ruined fairyland.
Across the intersection afore the ballroom he
walked watching the people in changing eras. The
markets were good; like New York they were the
lower life of the worldly merchants. They could
be stomached by artists and the working class.
At the Santa Monica walk he turned. The sounds
of handball players were coming over the wall.
He walked on looking at the peace signs, dirty
words and symbols. Chalk; them the walkways opened
People are always wanting to know if Animal
is crazy. He goes over to a man. They nod and
laugh; let each other know that the other has-
en't changed.
He passes an actor's hotdog stand.
The sand is thick, but not to much trash.
It's a tight world. The pace on the beach;
the pattern of it's layers.
Meanwhile a man,
Luis is driving his car down the San
Diego freeway waiting for his cutoff to the