Los Angeles

After we met I thought we really had something, Really hit it off. It wasn’t the words we spoke, The easy fluorescent trail they made. Maybe it was the Japanese lantern Glowing over your bare shoulder Or the smile you threw To the side- To someone. Or maybe it was the cool damp air, Slight seduction of rain But no rain. Perfect, cool molecules, Layer on layer, Air sitting on air. But after, I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you In the heavy-sitting valleys, Behind the cool barriered hedges With stone guard dogs, In the palm shadowed boulevards Or the canyon mazes. I couldn’t find you In the final exhalations of space, On sun baked, cracked cement plaza drives. I couldn’t find you In the starkly lined avenues Amongst the serious-expressioned manikins. It really is a desert here, huh? Had said the pale cheeked waiter from Wisconsin While we waited for you to come back. Yes, I thought, touching the sweating water glass. A stage set in a desert Filled with mirages and promises And doors that no one answers And roads that curve toward the sun. We both knew you weren’t coming back. I won’t find you again But I will keep looking And looking And looking. There is always that chance. Yes, to find someone like you. That chance. I leave alone, Tip under plate. A dog barks at my steps, Waits, barks again. We are both close, Yet impossibly, Far from home.