Miss Havisham’s love poem to Pasadena aroused ‘Curmudgeon Kel.’ So here’s my sardonic lament.
You’re a living doll, Pasadena, a Twilight Zone special
Bashed, bloodied but breathing
Learning to wear your skyward spikes
Condos of stucco and tile, offices of glass and steel
Your mix your uses like a Bond martini—shaken, not stirred
Developers’ pockets dream to bulge
Dear girl, they’re in your bloomers
Your Greene and Greene’s shadowed, your Julia Morgan widowed
Your Ernie Junior’s deported, your Beadles plum gone
Your Bullock’s tea room a sea of furniture
Made in China.
I raise my Budweiser-sponsored Dodgers glass
(from Hooters) to your vertical growth
That train has left the station, the station itself dwarfed
The big boys from Chicago now pass you by
Their whistles meant for some other girl
West Coast Grrlie Blather 