In L.A., …the only sensory deprivation… is touch.
Originally published in the Starsky and Hutch gen anthology zine LA Vespers 1 in 1979.
The faint outline of the San Gabriel Mountains is just discernable through the yellow haze. Visible pollutants high; sulphur content maximum. L.A., a city to taste and smell as well as see and hear. The only sensory deprivation in this sprawling hive of humanity is touch.
One by one they travel
One by one they grow
One by one they all die
One by one they know
Solitary millions. Americans, especially those of Los Angeles and environs, are more shy than the world norm, seldom kissing anyone, except their mates—never strangers. Holding hands is for couples in love. A friendly arm across the shoulder is a rare sight other than in the gay community. Space. They all need space…. Don’t crowd, don’t push, don’t touch the sacred flesh of he who stands beside you as friend and brother.
Have any thoughts?
Share your reaction or leave a quick response — we’d love to hear what you think!
-
0
-
0
-
0
-
0
-
0
-
0
