2021-12-11

a simpler piece of plastic

A place to go. Where my sisters stand tall. Taller than the trees. The trees of Graceda Park. I rise early to listen to the sprinklers. And watch the early morning trees crush all the shadows. Ghosts on the tennis court. So many people I used to know are gone. But I still have the sunny mirrors of my hands. This crush of blue sky. Shadows of the record store downtown. A pretty girl walks out of the past. God, I am so in love with her ankles, her black socks. Smell of chlorine. Windmilled air over the Altamont. Sounds of distant radio. Always alone but never abandoned.