Sunset, the familiar loneliness

we come with the doves
and leave with perfume.

goodbye, Los Angeles,
until next year
when I am here for a book
about your face. 

the apple stand girl
at the farmer's market
recognizes my hipster sweatshirt. 

I try to appreciate 
the absence of humidity and bugs,
but I won't really dig it
until it is done and in the rearview
of a red-eye, middle seat Spirit airlines flight.

I came with hope
and left with confidence,
not a bad deal at all.