i miss california and its not-so-subtleties
the PCH, 1 way to my sandy heart
and saltwater smiles
stretching wide like love
all the way from laguna to san diego
and wondering where i’d fit in best,
which meandering road might grow me a home
somewhere far from the one i know
and spring me up a different set of dreams
like tulips when you’re used to daisies
and neither is ever the wrong choice
but simply other.
i’ve so much left to learn
about the grays between my
silent as spaces between sentences
and meaning behind words —
and yet i feel them bend and sway,
shifting plates beneath my summer feet
as i lean into the singing wind
and feel my myself begin to slip away.

one day, i won’t remember how to stay.