California,
You steal all my love and friends,
I am alone in this town again,
But at least I know these streets.
I walk them with my eyes on my feet,
But I know the way by the cracks,
Buried deep in concrete,
My heart starts to relax.
I think I'll take a bus ride,
I think I'll take a ferry,
Across the water,
For my lungs,
To catch the breeze.
I think I know the ocean,
At least by all its names,
But the one thing that I've never known,
Is the height of all the waves.
California,
Will you still stay that place?
California,
What mystics make your name?
California,
What more's there to take away?
I set the tap to warm,
But my hands cool,
Fully through,
What's new?
I never fantasized about another place.
The idealism of our youth,
How it enchants you,
Takes you far from home,
But then what there,
Cools your bones?
I am not burning hot with wonder,
For the places that would squander,
My youth,
I hear about your misty mountains,
And my legs say,
They've already walked enough.
California,
What magic is your wonder?
California,
All your fires and your thunders,
California,
Can you take me back,
To the times when my home was all I ever had to know?
YOU ARE READING
Reader's Notes
PoetryA growing collection of prose, old and new, from the teenage years: stories, passing thoughts, poetry. Mental imagery and dialogues straight from thoughts to text. Feel free to leave a comment with feedback or pointing out a small mistake somewhere...
