Where Have You Gone?

Vernon Merritt III/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images

Where have you gone
The girl who passed by
Where have you gone?
I think of you all the time

She walked along the road,
50 years ago

I was a boy,
inside a shop,
looking out a window,
at her.

It was spring
I think
The sun was still faint
I remember
The breeze brought a chill
But not for you
Life was about to begin
For me

Where have you gone
The girl that I knew?
Where have you gone?
The seasons and dreams?

Her hair was blonde
and blew in the wind
She was young
And free
And alive
And unreal

She was a vision
I still hold
An ideal
Kept fresh
In my heart

Her legs were long,
her skirt was short,
she went past me and smiled,
I ran outside

But she was gone
only the scent of roses remained
the scent she wore
it soon went away

So where have you gone?
The girl who passed by
You were to me
the essence of free
you were the girl
I wanted to see
you were the one,
Where have you gone?

Tell me please.
If you know.
Where have you gone?

-Andrew B. Hurvitz

Poème en français
Où es tu allé
La fille qui est passée
Où es tu allé?
je pense à toi tout le temps

Elle a marché le long de la route,
il y a 50 ans

J'étais un garçon,
à l'intérieur d'un magasin,
regardant par la fenêtre,
chez elle.

C'était le printemps
je pense
Le soleil était encore faible
Je me souviens
La brise a apporté un froid
Mais pas pour toi
La vie allait commencer
Pour moi

Où es tu allé
La fille que je connaissais?
Où es tu allé?
Les saisons et les rêves?

Ses cheveux étaient blonds
et soufflé dans le vent
Elle était jeune
Et libre
Et vivant
Et irréel

Elle était une vision
Je tiens toujours
Un idéal
Conservé frais
Dans mon coeur

Ses jambes étaient longues,
sa jupe était courte,
elle est passée devant moi et a souri,
J'ai couru dehors

Mais elle était partie
seul le parfum des roses est resté
l'odeur qu'elle portait
il est bientôt parti

Alors où es-tu parti?
La fille qui est passée
Tu étais pour moi
l'essence de libre
tu étais la fille
je voulais voir
Vous étiez le seul,
Où es tu allé?

Dis-moi s'il te plaît.
Si tu sais.
Où es tu allé?

¿Dónde has ido?

Dónde has ido
La chica que pasó por
¿Dónde has ido?
pienso en ti todo el tiempo

Ella caminó a lo largo del camino,
Hace 50 años

Yo era un chico,
dentro de una tienda,
mirando por una ventana,
a ella.

Era primavera
El sol todavía estaba débil
La brisa trajo un escalofrío
Pero no para ti
La vida estaba por comenzar
Para mi

Dónde has ido
La chica que yo conocía?
¿Dónde has ido?
Las estaciones y los sueños?

Su cabello era rubio
y sopló en el viento
Ella era joven
Y gratis
Y vivo
E irreal

Ella era una visión
Todavía sostengo
Un ideal
Mantenido fresco
En mi corazón

Sus piernas eran largas,
su falda era corta,
ella pasó junto a mí y sonrió,
Corrí afuera

Pero ella se había ido
solo el aroma de rosas permaneció
el aroma que ella usaba
pronto se fue

Entonces, ¿dónde has ido?
La chica que pasó por
Tú eras para mí
la esencia de la libertad
tú eras la niña
quería ver
Tú eras el único
¿Dónde has ido?

Dime por favor.
Si usted sabe.
¿Dónde has ido?

Love in an Inhospitable Place.


The railroad tracks have been here a long time, at least since 1937, when they came to California from Tennessee.

They were hammered down through orange groves and alongside citrus packing facilities.

They are still here, near Raymer and Sepulveda, in an inhospitable place, now settled with high security storage containers, barbed wire fences, metal recyclers, auto repair, and a crooked, concrete-walled river surrounded and imprisoned by tall, spiked iron.

All Aboard Mini Storage



W. of Raymer St. BridgeVan Nuys, CA.

At sunset, when the heat has broke, on a summer evening, you may come up here and trespass, viewing Van Nuys from its backside, learning its ways by seeing it in its golden gruesomeness. If any planner had sought intentionally to build monstrosities that defy humane and civil urbanity, he could do no better than emulate this dystopia.

Raymer Street Bridge is a pedestrian bridge, perhaps the world’s ugliest, deformed and graceless, a steel structure reeking of urine and feces, trashed with discarded beer bottles and marked with violent paint in glowing hues. From atop the bridge at late day, the panorama of hazy mountains and the valley are at last tamed into something soft, artistic and implausibly romantic.

Young friends, or lovers, skateboarders and strollers, they come here to talk and to kiss, to ride their boards on the glass-sharded concrete; to ponder and dream in a landscape where nothing is ennobling or spiritual. They are defiant in their gentleness, renewing love and humanness, while all around them, an indifferent, mean and feared section of Los Angeles tells them, in so many words, welcome to hell.


Raymer St. Bridge


Something to Live For


photo by Gilda Davidian

“Something to Live For”

A young man without direction idolizes an older man with money and a mysteriously tragic past.

a new short story by Andy Hurvitz

part 2 of the Billy Strayhorn trilogy