somehow, every time I've ever
visited the City of Angels
it's in June: 2004, 2009, 2018.
the lack of humidity
is a great way to land
after a flight on Spirit.
I didn't even pack a bag,
just went with the clothes on my back,
my boots, blues, and business.
and the next thing I know,
I am on the back of a motorcycle
holding on for dear life to the back of a girl I once knew.
whirring past goats and ghettos,
the air feels so nice,
that I throw my hat up in the air like a movie.
as other decades,
I've brought June gloom with me,
and wake up alone to fog and boats.