that's not quite right.
I may be more wrinkled now
so the sand just remains right there where
it's only taken another year for me to
fuck around and find out
somethings
and
I'm reminded of the old sand pit
on the playground of
San Luis Rey Elementary
and the clay
that I wanted to believe
was dinosaur bones.
Maybe, at one time,
I might've been the lead pelican and
every time, at this time,
that I look to the west,
they're all in lockstep
confusing me, though
I'll like how dispensary questions
are asked and realize good things, so
damn, here again is a good
place to smoke but
I wish that
they hadn't
padlocked the
portashitter.
I'm on the right now bus
passing all the places
I wouldn't mind being at again,
wondering,
what would've happened had
I walked this way today, and
is nostalgia organic?
Something made them say
"I'm glad that I had
something to say about it" and
it was really important to see
a sign marked
'trail [is] this way'
sometimes when
there are places where
you're sure
to be wrong and
here we are,
survived.
I've looked at these trees
before they were important
as they are today or
in this unimportant moment
where the shadow cast
by me
feels good.
Kids smiled and waved as they passed by.
