there are gopher holes on the sidewalk lawns
and every once in a while on Camilla street
the dirt will mound up next to a dandelion clump
someone lived here once and they still do
and they get visited on lattice top pie Sundays
on the front door a wreath for every celebration
and after morning coffee the garage door opens
name brand grass rose and cactus fertilizers
there are potholes and no sidewalks on Alameda
someone we don’t think of lives here and many more
the dirt around her ankles with pink thread strands
in matted hair with feathers
on Tuesday last her blanket drenched in rain
by her thigh a Starbucks cup to collect her pay
peeking into secret plastic bags
her slitted lips whisper at the fence
there are various hours of the day
where heads can’t be wrapped around anything
i admit i’m old fashioned broken indoctrinated
i’m too tired so very tired to fight a fight
good bad or indifferent
the landscape is not what we think it is
there are no alien or governmental microchips
only old Hollywood postcards in our brain
words less spoken 
Your voice, your words, as you as ever.
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thank you friend wishing you a happy and healthy new year xo
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And you, always good to see you around.
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The saddest part in many ways is ‘the landscape is not what we think it is/there are no…’ one would be so fantastic, the other, so terrifying…but either would be something. Instead there is nothing but dandelion clumps, name brand grass, cactus fertilizer, tired Camilla St. and the memory of those old Hollywood postcards…
Well done, G.
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much love to you MR and thank you it’s like holding a new born so beautiful delicate but the woes they will endure simply because of they’re humanity xoxo
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Love those last three lines. Great work!
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thank you so much friend xo
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