If I ended up in California
If I ended up in California,
marrying a guy I knew in Bethany College,
I would drive millions of miles
along the coast, visiting many wineries
& baking my skin raw. The wildfires
would drown us out—the beaches
are not cleaned; they’re full of glass & plastics
the waves have crashed over, & the mountains
are not very far away. L.A. is still fake,
full of would-be stars & stargazers.
My poems would be full of stardust,
sci-fi creatures & perfect sunsets.
But this dude & I broke up
before the perfect weather reeled me in;
I traveled East towards New York,
& settled there amid skyscrapers,
subways & clouded-over skies.
Such electricity!