~JEANINE STEVENS~

A DATE AT THE LA BREA TAR PITS

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Almost dark
we stood next
to dilapidated fences
guarding black pools.
Huge plaster replicas
hovered—
sculptures at their dusk.
A tar smell, heavy
and dense oozed
fat bubbles glistening,
reflecting scant daylight,
a false haven to trap birds
and eager beasts.
He wanted to kiss me,
but it didn’t seem right,
there—at the edge
of the Pleistocene.
Now, a lab covers the pits.
Technicians behind glass
examine glossy bones
permanently trapped—
no dew-laced lip prints,
not even a faint impression.

 
 

© by Jeanine Stevens